


it is always in your darkness that the stars start to appear

by spilled_notes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Holby City
Genre: AU, Crossover, F/F, First War with Voldemort, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2018-11-28 15:44:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 47,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11421102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spilled_notes/pseuds/spilled_notes
Summary: It’s the mid 1970s, and Wizarding England is in the grip of war. Auror Bernie Wolfe is watching Edward Campbell, a wizard with known Dark leanings who has recently - and unexpectedly - taken a desk job at the Ministry of Magic. Both Dumbledore and Hanssen, Head of the Auror Office, want to try and make use of this potential Dark spy - and who better to manipulate information out of him than his ex wife Serena Campbell, talented intelligence analyst and diplomat extraordinaire? But in the midst of chaos and suspicion, and with Bernie being kept in the dark about Serena’s true purpose in the Auror Office, can they really forge a friendship, let alone anything more?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Ames asked me some time ago if I would be interested in writing a Berena/HP crossover set during the First War, including Bernie being suspicious of Serena's loyalty, Minerva being certain of it, and eventual falling in love. I think we can safely say that it's taken on a life of its own!  
> I have, obviously, both borrowed from and considerably messed around with both canons - so if you recognise something then it isn't mine, and I hope you'll forgive all the liberties I've taken.  
> Title from Little Stargazer by Erin Hanson.

Serena is curled in her armchair reading when a tabby cat jumps onto the windowsill, stares through the glass at her and then slips through the open window. She doesn’t bother to look up, even when the cat transforms into a witch in long black and emerald robes, just continues to the end of the page then closes the book with a snap.

‘Wine?’ she asks, unperturbed, picking up her own empty glass and heading for the kitchen.

‘Please.’

‘How's Annie?’ she calls.

‘She's fine. Ellie?’

‘Your guess is as good as mine. She only writes when she wants something.’

Serena comes back to find Minerva sat in the other armchair, staring into the empty fireplace.

‘Here,’ she says, passing her a full glass and settling again. ‘Now, what’s so important you couldn’t send an owl?’

‘I can’t just visit an old friend?’

Serena doesn’t answer, just raises one eyebrow and waits.

‘Your ex husband has started working at the Ministry.’

‘What, Edward?’

‘Unless you’ve been hiding another,’ Minerva says drily.

‘Doing what?’ Serena asks suspiciously.

‘A rather dull, low level desk job for the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol.’

‘You’re sure it’s Edward?’

Minerva nods, watching Serena’s incredulous expression over her wine glass.

‘He’ll never stick it, he’ll be bored out of his tiny little mind.’

‘That’s exactly what Hanssen thought.’

Serena stares at her friend. ‘You think he’s a spy,’ she says, and it isn’t a question.

‘We’ve been watching him for a while, ever since he turned up at a couple of meetings of Dark Wizards. He’s been spending quite a lot of time with Lestrange, Avery, that crowd.’

‘Yes,’ Serena says distastefully. ‘He always was rather chummy with that lot. Or wanted to be, anyway. Never quite made it into their little gang though.’

‘It looks like he might be having another go. The Aurors thinks he’s trying to prove himself useful.’

‘Sounds just like Edward,’ Serena says, rolling her eyes. ‘And you’re telling me this because?’

‘Hanssen has spotted an opportunity. Edward thinks he’s gathering information on the activities of the Aurors to pass on, but intelligence gathering works both ways.’

‘Spying on the spy, hm? Just tempt him with a pretty young blonde, he never could resist.’

*

Three months and three women later, Minerva is back.

‘You think he had something to do with the latest attack,’ Serena says as she pours the wine. ‘The _Prophet_ does deliver to France,’ she says at Minerva’s surprise. ‘I’m keeping up with events.’

Minerva nods, sips from the glass Serena hands her, smiles and hums appreciatively.

‘One of the perks of living in the Rhone,’ Serena says with a wink. ‘So, what can I do for you this time?’

‘Will you help us?’

‘With what?’

‘Edward.’

‘Can’t the Aurors just arrest him? They must have enough evidence by now.’

Minerva sighs, clearly displeased with what she’s about to say. ‘Albus still wants to try and use him, and Hanssen doesn’t disagree. It doesn’t look like he’s in the inner circle but after this he’ll have risen a little. He could be a valuable source of information in the coming months, more useful free than in Azkaban.’

‘Send in another blonde?’ Serena suggests.

Minerva shakes her head. ‘It hasn’t worked, Serena. He hasn’t let anything slip to any of them.’

‘Not like him,’ Serena frowns. ‘Usually he’d do anything to impress.’

Minerva hums noncommittally, sips her wine, looks anywhere but at Serena – so she doesn’t see the moment when the sickle drops and Serena’s eyes widen.

‘You want me to do it, don’t you?’ she asks slowly, flatly.

‘ _I_ don’t,’ Minerva mutters, voice tight with anger and distaste. ‘I think it’s a terrible idea.’

‘Dumbledore,’ Serena sighs, an edge of anger creeping in. ‘Albus _bloody_ Dumbledore.’

‘There’s a secretarial position opening up in Auror Headquarters.’

‘Quill pushing, Min? That won’t work. I was always the ambitious one, he’ll never buy that as a reason for my moving. You get me something more prestigious and I’ll consider it. Although I don’t know why you think he’ll tell me anything seeing as he spent the entirety of our marriage lying to me.’

*

London isn’t how Serena remembers it being. The day before she’s due to start at the Ministry she walks through the Muggle streets to Charing Cross Road, pauses outside a shabby little shop on the corner and then pushes open the door and steps into the dingy bar. She knows things are bad when every patron’s eyes flick to her and then back to their drink or companion, and the barman stares at her with one hand clearly on his wand. She can’t help the shiver that runs down her spine, sets her shoulders and holds her head high and makes herself continue through to the courtyard.

When she steps out into Diagon Alley the normally bustling street is quiet. Even allowing for British reserve the people are withdrawn, keeping themselves to themselves. Gone is the friendly atmosphere of every previous trip, even when she brought Ellie here just a few summers ago. Instead witches and wizards shoot wary or even suspicious looks at everyone they pass, hurry from shop to shop with their heads bowed. Nothing Minerva told her, nothing Henrik wrote in his letter, nothing reported in the _Daily Prophet_ prepared her for this, for the reality of a community at war with itself.

Serena pulls out her list and calls into each of the shops she needs. She’d planned to treat herself to a sundae at Florian Fortescue’s once she was finished, instead walks straight past and back to the Leaky Cauldron, orders a large glass of Shiraz and settles at a table in one dark corner, takes a sip and sighs heavily.

_I wonder if Henrik deliberately neglected to mention how bad things are,_ she thinks darkly, taking another, larger sip. _Probably,_ she decides. _Oh well, it won’t be for long._

*          *          *

Bernie’s eyes are glued to a memo that almost flew into the side of her head as she walks towards the lift, blinking away Monday morning bleariness to bring the words into focus. She’s so engrossed that she doesn’t see the witch already waiting, foot tapping with impatience, until she collides with her.

‘Sorry,’ she mutters, glancing up to meet a pair of unfamiliar dark eyes.

‘You look as desperate for coffee as I feel,’ the witch says with a small smile.

‘Hm,’ Bernie nods, eyes returning to her memo.

And then she looks at the witch again. There’s something familiar about her, and her sleepy brain struggles to work out where she’s seen her before, what it is that she recognises: her eyes, perhaps? Her jawline? The quirk of an eyebrow? Bernie shakes her head slightly and looks away before she can be accused of staring, knows she’ll place the stranger eventually.

They get into the lift together. Bernie smiles at a couple of colleagues and barely suppresses a yawn as they slowly ascend. Eventually only she, the witch she bumped into, and a young wizard from the Improper Use of Magic Office are left. They all step out onto level two, Bernie and the wizard heading in opposite directions while the other witch looks around, hesitating.

Bernie glances at her watch: she isn’t quite running late.

‘Know where you’re going?’ she asks.

‘Auror Headquarters,’ she replies with a frown.

‘This way,’ Bernie says with a jerk of her head. ‘I’m heading there anyway.’

They fall into step beside each other, passing office doors and enchanted windows ( _scudding clouds today_ , Bernie registers), turn a corner and pass through the heavy doors into the already buzzing office. Bernie is about to ask the witch who she’s here to see when Hanssen spots them and strides over.

‘Serena,’ he says, holding out his hand. ‘It’s good to see you again. I see you’ve already met Ms Wolfe.’

‘She was kind enough to keep me from getting lost,’ Serena smiles, eyes sparkling, before she turns and follows Hanssen to his office.

They spend a long time talking, Hanssen and Serena, Bernie notes as she gets on with her work, sipping the coffee she so sorely needed. She keeps glancing over, her eyes drawn to the other woman with her short, dark hair, black and crimson robes, elegant fingers gesturing as she speaks. Once or twice she’s caught out, Serena looking up and meeting her eye through the office window with an amused smile that makes Bernie blush and immediately look away.

Suddenly something clicks. Bernie pulls out her file on Edward Campbell, rifles through it and pulls out his wedding photo. She turns it over and reads the names on the back – ‘Edward and Serena’ – and then turns it over again and stares at the smiling couple. She’s twenty years younger, has longer hair but–

She glances across to Hanssen’s office again. _No, it can’t be. He wouldn’t invite Campbell’s ex wife in. Especially not without telling me. Would he?_

She looks between the photo and the witch again, frowning, blushes and drops her gaze to her desk when Serena catches her eye and quirks an eyebrow, just so.

_Yes. It’s her._

*

Instead of leaving as Bernie expects her to, Serena settles into an empty cubicle in one corner of the room, not all that far from Bernie’s own workspace. She reaches into her handbag and pulls out a quill and a bottle of ink, along with a small photograph that she pins to the wall, then picks up the first scroll from a towering pile and begins to read.

Serena’s still there, slowly working her way down the stack, scribbling notes in the margins, two hours later when Bernie stands up and stretches her back in a series of satisfying clicks and pops that draws a disapproving frown from Fletch in the next cubicle. Bernie picks up her mug and heads in search of more coffee, hesitating a moment before pulling out a spare mug adorned with a pattern of flutterby bushes and filling it too.

‘Thought you could probably do with this,’ she says, putting the flutterby mug down on Serena’s desk. ‘I don’t know how you take it but–’

‘Strong and hot’s all I care about on a day like today,’ Serena says with a smile, picking the mug up and inhaling deeply before taking a sip. ‘Mm, you’re a lifesaver.’ She pushes her chair out a little and turns, holding out her hand. ‘Serena Campbell.’

‘Bernie Wolfe,’ she replies, taking it, noticing that Serena’s fingers linger just a moment longer than necessary. ‘No relation to Edward Campbell?’ she asks innocently.

‘Unfortunate ex-husband,’ Serena says with a grimace.

‘My condolences,’ Bernie teases, but inside she's instantly on the alert. ‘Did you know he’s, uh, working just down the corridor?’

‘Not until this morning,’ Serena mutters. ‘Just what I need, to be crossing paths with him every day.’

‘Not an amicable split, I take it?’

‘Affairs, alcohol and lies, all on his part,’ Serena says with a wry smile. ‘But I got a delightful if infuriating daughter out of it, so it wasn’t all bad.’

Bernie follows her gaze to the photo of a girl, about fifteen, with long dark hair and Serena’s dimple in her chin. ‘Hogwarts?’ she asks, as if she doesn't already know.

‘Beauxbatons,’ Serena corrects. ‘My mother was French and determined I should go there, and Ellie and I moved back after the divorce. Now I’m rather glad she’s safely over there, away from all this,’ she adds, with a sweeping gesture around the busy room.

Bernie nods, sips her coffee. Wonders if Hanssen knew of Edward’s past infidelities when he suggested using young female agents to get intelligence from him and strongly suspects that he did.

_If only it had worked,_ she thinks ruefully.

‘Ms Wolfe?’

Bernie’s head snaps up at the quiet, firm voice to find Hanssen looking at her expectantly.

‘Sorry, I’d better go.’

‘I think you had,’ Serena smiles. ‘And I’d better get back to this.’

Bernie takes two strides and then turns back. ‘What is it you’re here to do, exactly?’

‘Keep you lot in order,’ Serena teases. ‘Apparently you’re not taking good enough care of your paperwork.’

Bernie flushes slightly, even though she knows the rebuke can’t be directed at her personally.

‘Don’t tell me you’re one of the culprits?’ Serena asks, but there’s a teasing glint in her eyes.

‘I don’t have all day, Ms Wolfe.’

‘Go on,’ Serena says with a wink. ‘I’ll scold you when you get back.’

Bernie smiles briefly then strides across the office, dodging colleagues and desks, gulps another mouthful of coffee and grabs her cloak from the back of her chair before jogging into the corridor after Hanssen.

‘So what do you make of Ms Campbell?’ he asks as they head for the lift.

‘Are you sure having Edward Campbell’s ex-wife in the office is a good idea?’

‘She’s very good at what she does, Ms Wolfe,’ he replies. ‘She comes with impeccable references, and there is nothing in her past to suggest she shares Campbell’s Dark leanings.’

‘Right. And you don’t think it’s at all suspicious that after spending most of her life living and working in France she just suddenly decides to come and work here?’

‘No Ms Wolfe, I do not,’ he says levelly.

Bernie feels Hanssen’s piercing gaze on her, keeps her own firmly fixed on the lift doors.

‘I have worked with Serena before, some time ago,’ he adds. ‘And Minerva has known her for many years. We both trust her, and I believe she has certain skills that mean she will be an asset to the department. Let’s not go making more work for ourselves worrying about her, hm?’


	2. Chapter 2

Serena manages to avoid Edward for the rest of her first day, and all of her second. She's grateful for the time to settle in a little, to start getting to know her colleagues and her work. Because despite the fact that she’s here to spy on her ex-husband she’s only too aware that her cover job is also very real and important.

_And necessary,_ she thinks with a grimace as she continues to work her way through the sorry mess that is the Aurors’ filing system and organise their existing intelligence in a way that makes it easier – _possible_ – to use.

_How they find anything I’ll never know_ , she silently despairs as Fletch, the analyst assigned to Bernie’s team, tries to make the case for their organised chaos.

She’s just been to the bathroom on the afternoon of her third day, has taken the scenic route back to the office (deliberately, in order to stretch her legs, she would be quick to say. It’s not that she took a wrong turn and managed to get herself lost and was too proud to ask for directions) when she rounds a corner and only spots him when it’s too late to turn back.

‘Serena?’

‘Edward,’ she says, plastering a bright smile on her face and forcing the distaste from her voice. ‘What a surprise.’

‘I could say the same. What are you doing here?’

He comes closer, leans to kiss her cheek.

_At least he doesn’t smell of Firewhisky,_ she thinks. _Or cheap perfume._

‘I’ve taken a position in Auror Headquarters,’ she replies. ‘Chief analyst.’

‘Really?’

‘Don’t sound so surprised,’ she chides. ‘Turns out they have need of someone with my experience to get their office in order and make sense of everything. So much paperwork, so much intelligence material,’ she adds, watching his eyes light up. ‘What about you?’

‘Oh, just a desk job in Magical Law Enforcement. Doing my bit and all that.’

‘How very admirable,’ Serena says drily. _And very unlike you._

‘We should have dinner sometime, catch up.’

Serena pretends to consider his offer. Under any other circumstances she’d brush him off with a laugh, a reminder of how _terrible_ things were between them and how wonderfully, blissfully separate their lives have been since the divorce. But of course _this_ is the entire reason she’s in London at all.

_Still, it wouldn’t do to appear too happy about it,_ she thinks. _Needs to be believable, after all._

‘Perhaps,’ she says eventually, and then glances at her watch. ‘Sorry, I’ve got to get back for a meeting,’ she lies. ‘I’m sure we’ll bump into each other again soon.’

She walks away as quickly as she can, desperate to avoid him following her, weaves her way through the Aurors and sinks into her chair. A minute later a mug of coffee is placed on the desk in front of her, and she glances up to see Bernie looking at her, concerned.

‘Edward,’ she says by way of explanation, shuddering slightly.

Serena goes home that evening, to the flat Minerva found for her, and drinks an inadvisable amount of the wine she brought with her from France. She wonders how on earth she's going to manage this when two minutes of conversation with Edward made her stomach turn, rendered her unable to focus properly on her work for the rest of the afternoon.

She groans and pours another glass, emptying the bottle down to the last few drops. Determines to buy a vast quantity of something cheaper if she's going to be getting through a bottle every night because this is definitely a waste of good wine.

*          *          *

Serena gives it a couple of weeks. A couple of weeks of bumping into Edward in the corridors, of him loitering near the office at the time she takes her lunch break, of him just so happening to arrive at the same time as her in the morning, of him badgering her to go for dinner or drinks every time they see each other.

She catches Bernie's expression when she finally gives in and agrees to dinner with him. She already likes the blonde Auror, despite her entrenched messiness and gung-ho nature and aversion to filing her paperwork in anything approaching a timely fashion. She likes their little chats over coffee or lunch, likes catching Bernie's eye across the office, likes exchanging smiles with her, likes working with her close-knit team better than Jac or Moody or any of the others. Wants to be her friend, wants to tell her why she's here, to tell her she's not being taken in by Edward but rather is taking him in. Knows that she can't, knows that the concerned, suspicious look in Bernie's eyes is only going to get worse.

Hopes that maybe when all this is over and she can stop pretending that there'll be something left for her to salvage.

Bernie doesn't bring her coffee when she refills her own mug later that afternoon. Doesn’t glance over at Serena for the rest of the day, even though she surely must be able to feel Serena’s gaze on her. Doesn’t say goodbye when she leaves.

*

Serena brings her coffee the next morning.

‘How, uh, how was dinner?’ Bernie asks stiffly. Eyes fixed on her mug she doesn’t see Serena tilt her head as she takes a sip, considering her answer. ‘Forget it,’ she mutters. ‘None of my business, anyway.’

‘His taste in wine hasn’t improved,’ Serena replies, sitting in Raf’s empty chair.

‘Is that the worst of it?’

Serena barks a laugh, is about to elaborate when Hanssen walks into the office, catches her eye and gestures for her to join him.

‘Sorry,’ she apologises. ‘Lunch?’

Bernie nods, watches her walk to Hanssen’s office and hold a quiet conversation that has him frowning. Clearly dismissed Serena settles at her own desk, and Hanssen sits to write a few notes before striding around to give quiet orders to a handful of Aurors. Bernie glances at Serena, raises an eyebrow in question but Serena just shrugs. And something inside Bernie twists.

She doesn’t make it to lunch, is called away to a meeting so secret only Hanssen knows where she’s gone and who she’s with. It’s the latest young witch who’s trying to seduce information out of Edward Campbell. She shudders when she tells Bernie that he had dinner with his ex-wife last night, screws up her face as she wonders aloud how any woman could marry him in the first place, let alone offer even the sliver of a second chance after divorcing him.

Bernie’s gut twists again. She doesn’t say that she’s been wondering exactly the same thing.

Other than this Campbell is, sadly, remaining tight-lipped. Bernie gives the woman – _girl, really,_ she thinks sourly – a pat on the shoulder, tells her to keep trying just a little longer.

That afternoon Raf and Morven come back to the office brimming with success at having captured several Dark Wizards – only one Death Eater, unfortunately, but still a success. Especially as they averted an attack on a group of Muggle children. Bernie sees a flicker of something pass across Serena’s face, isn’t close enough to tell exactly what it is.

*          *          *

Hanssen orders Serena to see Edward again far sooner than she had hoped.

_Although never would be too soon, as far as I’m concerned,_ she thinks with a groan. She checks her make-up, fluffs her hair, then steps out of the bathroom and almost collides with Bernie.

‘Sorry.’

Bernie looks her up and down, and Serena doesn’t miss the slight flush of her cheeks, the slight darkening of her eyes.

‘You look nice,’ Bernie says quietly, and Serena smiles.

‘There you are, ‘Rena,’ Edward calls from down the corridor.

Bernie’s head snaps around to look at him, then back at Serena.

‘Never liked him calling me that when we were married,’ Serena mutters, rolling her eyes before fixing a smile on her face.

‘Dinner again?’ Bernie frowns.

Serena shrugs. ‘Ellie’s been on at me to be nicer to him,’ she lies.

Bernie looks around again, sees that Edward has been waylaid by a colleague and leans closer to Serena. ‘You do know that we’re, uh, that is that I’m–’

Serena stops her with a hand on her arm, squeezes gently. ‘I know what I’m doing,’ she says softly, eyes fixed on Bernie’s. She wishes she could say more, wishes she hadn’t let Hanssen persuade her that it would be better this way, wishes she had been firmer when she tried to discuss it with him earlier in the week.

‘Just– just be careful?’

‘I will,’ Serena promises, letting go of her as Edward joins them.

‘Shall we?’ he asks, not acknowledging Bernie.

Serena inclines her head and walks towards the lifts beside him, but shrugs off the arm he tries to sling around her shoulders.

*

Edward’s eye is caught by every young woman in the restaurant.

_Some things never change,_ Serena thinks wryly. _Even if he_ is _supposed to be seducing information out of me._

She hadn’t given him anything last time – she and Hanssen agreed that he had to work for any intelligence they might slip him, that it had to seem like he was persuading it from her. It isn’t looking like he’ll be getting anything this time either, if the way his eyes are fixed to the swaying behind of their waitress is anything to go by.

But Serena needs something from him too, so she drains her wine, takes a steeling breath and then stretches her leg out under the table so she can just touch her foot to his. It’s the merest brush, slight enough that it could be an accident, but it’s enough to make him look at her and that’s all she needs. She flutters her eyelashes, gestures with her hand, sees his eyes begin to glaze slightly as he watches the movement of her fingers.

She has to restrain herself from rolling her eyes at how _easy_ it is.

*

Bernie watches the next morning as Serena holds another hushed conversation with Hanssen, as Hanssen again strides off to pass out new orders. This time he has something for her and Raf. As Bernie's pulling on her coat her gaze catches on Serena: she looks worried, her brow knitted, her hand toying with the pendant between her collarbones.

It's late when they get back but Serena is still in the now quiet office. Her head snaps around at the sound of their footsteps and Bernie sees her shoulders sink, sees relief cross her face for an instant before she schools her features and looks back at the parchment in her hand.

‘Drink?’ she asks a little later, as she's leaving.

Bernie stares at her in surprise.

‘No, I expect you want to just go home and get some rest,’ she says quietly.

She's half way to the door before Bernie finds her voice. ‘I'd like that,’ she says. ‘A drink, I mean. With you.’

She doesn't really know why she says it because Serena's right, she _does_ just want to collapse onto her sofa with copious amounts of unhealthy food and Firewhisky. And whatever Hanssen might say she still isn't sure she trusts Serena. But here she is, chasing after her on tired legs and following her to a quiet little Muggle bar where they won't be disturbed.

Here she is, splitting a bottle of wine with her. Red, even though she's always preferred white.

Here she is, gazing at her from under her fringe as Serena tells her about her daughter, her life in France, the way Edward’s eyes still roam just like they used to.

‘Well then he's an idiot,’ she blurts out, for once her mouth working faster than her brain.

‘Excuse me?’ Serena asks, one eyebrow raised.

‘It's just, well you looked very nice yesterday, that's all,’ she mutters, staring at the tabletop as she feels her cheeks flush. ‘Can't imagine any waitress looking as good as you.’

She only looks up when Serena places a hand over hers, and then it's to find her smiling softly. ‘She was quite pretty,’ she says after a long moment, her eyes glinting, and once she’s over the shock Bernie can't help but laugh.

She looks away, then. Doesn't see the way Serena's gaze lingers on her, the regret when she pulls her hand away. And when they leave she moves ahead of Serena to open the door for her and so is unaware of how Serena watches her, how her eyes rake from head to toe but don’t leave her until they’re side by side on the street, and Serena’s arm slips to link with hers.

*          *          *

The next time Serena sees Edward she pretends to be more affected by the wine than she really is, allows him to coax a snippet of information from her, has to hide a shudder at the light in his eyes. She makes herself reach across the table to stroke his hand, draws another litany of secrets from him as her fingers dance patterns across his skin. In the morning she recites them back to Hanssen, feels Bernie’s gaze on her from across the office; when she turns she sees that Bernie’s eyes are narrowed, her brow furrowed.

She meets Edward again at lunchtime, runs into him as he’s loitering outside the office and allows him to draw her out of the building for coffee and a sandwich. She sees Bernie on her way out, on her way back in again, as Edward brushes a kiss to her cheek when they part. They don’t speak of it but she sees the worry in Bernie’s eyes, sees the tension in her shoulders and knows she suspects her of being a spy.

*

‘I think we should tell her,’ she murmurs to Hanssen three days later, when a raid goes wrong thanks to the information she slipped to Edward and Bernie keeps glancing at her. But Hanssen just shakes his head, eyes steely and jaw set. ‘She knows I know you’re investigating him,’ Serena persists. ‘And I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m spying for him.’

‘It’s safer she that doesn’t know.’

‘Safer for who?’ Serena asks, eyebrows raised.

‘She can’t touch you, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

‘I don’t like lying to her.’

‘Your concern is noted, Ms Campbell,’ Hanssen replies, a note of finality in his voice, before walking away.

Serena stares after him, one hand clenched and the other tugging at her hair, a stream of curses on _that infernal Swedish beanpole_ and _Albus bloody Dumbledore_ running through her mind.

*

‘He refuses to tell her,’ Serena rages at Minerva and Annie, pacing up and down their kitchen with a glass of wine in her hand. ‘I _know_ she suspects me, but he just keeps saying the fewer people know the better.’

‘Why does it matter so much what Bernie thinks?’ Minerva asks cautiously.

‘I just like her, alright,’ Serena says, spinning to fix her with a glare. ‘I think we could be friends,’ she admits, softening a little. ‘But not if this carries on much longer. Has she, uh, has she said anything to you?’

Minerva exchanges a glance with her wife.

‘I knew it,’ Serena mutters.

Annie holds out the wine bottle on Serena’s next pass, wordlessly tops up her glass.

‘How are things with Edward?’ Minerva asks cautiously, pulling a chicken from the oven and replacing it with an apple pie.

‘He hasn’t changed in the slightest,’ she replies bitterly. ‘You’d think, the amount of time she’s spent investigating him – and I know _just_ how much time,’ she adds, gesturing with her glass so the wine almost sloshes over the side, ‘seeing as I spend all my days dealing with their intelligence reports.’ She pauses to take a breath, to take a sip of wine. ‘You’d think she would realise I’m not idiotic enough to be taken in by him for a second time. Although she probably thinks I was an idiot to marry him in the first place,’ she says wryly, and sighs. ‘So perhaps not.’


	3. Chapter 3

Hanssen pushes her over the next fortnight, until she’s seeing Edward almost every day. And Bernie stiffens towards her, stops smiling at her, stops bringing her coffee, stops exchanging anything more than pleasantries and necessities, starts staying late to deposit her paperwork on Serena’s desk after she’s already left so she arrives to it in the morning, or delegating it to another member of her team. Edward, on the other hand, is drawing ever closer, ingratiating himself into her life.

Any of these things in isolation would make her cross, but in combination they make her so grumpy that no amount of coffee during the day or Shiraz in the evenings can ease her mood. She snaps at every Auror who speaks to her, glares at anyone who dares to get in her way in the corridors, yells so loudly at young Digby when he hands in a stack of reports late that no one dares to approach her for the rest of the day, and even Hanssen skulks in his office.

 _I hate it_ , she wants to say to Bernie. _I hate him, I hate having to spend time with him, I hate having to lie to you. Please tell me you don’t hate me._

*

It comes to a head one Tuesday afternoon. Serena is sat at her desk trying to work but her eyes keep flicking from the parchment in front of her – Fletch’s latest analysis on Bernie’s team’s work – to the door, her leg bouncing, her fingers toying with her necklace. Because Bernie is out of the office, headed out on a quiet mission with Raf and Morven first thing this morning. A mission Hanssen instructed her to tell Edward about.

Bernie arrives back in a whirl of activity, Raf trailing several strides behind her, Morven half running to keep up with them. Bernie’s face is grim and dark, her eyes flashing with anger as they pin Serena to her chair.

‘Nothing,’ Bernie growls at Hanssen, standing close enough for Serena to hear. ‘And it was Minerva’s intel so we know it was good.’

‘It happens,’ Hanssen says calmly. ‘They change their plans.’

‘Not like this,’ Bernie insists. ‘Not this suddenly. Not without reason.’

She glares at Serena again, strides towards her with Hanssen in her wake.

‘Only six people knew about this. And only one of those is sleeping with a known Dark Wizard.’

‘I’m not sleeping with him,’ Serena hisses. Her eyes are blazing, but she shoots an imploring glance at Hanssen.

He stares at her for a moment, perfectly still, then nods, and Serena feels some of the tension leave her body. ‘Ms Campbell is working for me,’ he says quietly. ‘For the Order.’

Bernie looks between the two of them, mouth opening and closing silently.

‘I’m not sure this is the right place to have this conversation,’ Serena says softly, aware of the eyes and ears on them. ‘Not if you don’t want the entire office to know.’

Hanssen nods in agreement. ‘File your report, Ms Wolfe. I’ll send an owl to Minerva, you can both Floo up there when you’re finished.’

Bernie, still frowning, opens her mouth to protest.

‘Your report, Ms Wolfe,’ Hanssen repeats firmly, jolting her into action. ‘And don’t you have things to be getting on with, Ms Campbell?’ he adds to Serena.

*

They arrive, one after the other, to find that Minerva has been held up dealing with an incident at school.

‘Bloody Potter and Black again,’ Annie explains. ‘She'll be back soon. A drink, while you wait?’

Serena nods, even though really it's too early to start on the wine, but Bernie heads out into the cold, dim evening without looking at her and wanders around the garden smoking. Serena stares after her, nervous fingers at her neck.

‘She hates me,’ she says softly, taking the glass Annie holds out to her.

‘No,’ Annie placates. ‘She's just surprised. She'll come around, Serena.’

‘Do– do you think so?’ Serena asks, looking at her pleadingly.

‘Yes,’ she replies firmly. ‘Just give her time.’

Annie watches as she pushes the glass back and forth on the table, twirling the stem back and forth, her eyes fixed on Bernie, whose progress is just visible in the failing light.

 _There's something there,_ she thinks. _Or there could be, at least. If this doesn't put an end to it._

Bernie is still pacing the now dark garden and Serena is still staring outside, absently sipping her wine, when Minerva steps out of the emerald flames.

‘Those boys,’ she mutters as Annie tugs her close enough for a soft kiss. And then she glances at Serena. ‘I warned them this wouldn’t go well,’ she whispers.

‘I know, love,’ Annie soothes, squeezing Minerva’s fingers.

‘Although this wasn’t quite what I anticipated,’ she adds with a sigh. ‘And now I have to clean up their mess.’

‘Drink?’ Annie offers.

‘Please. Where’s Bernie?’ she asks as Annie pours a generous splash of the local Scotch Minerva is partial to.

‘Garden,’ Annie replies, their fingers brushing as she hands over the heavy crystal tumbler. ‘Will you fetch her in or shall I?’

‘I will. This isn’t your problem.’

‘Not yours either, really,’ Annie counters, heading for the door.

Minerva watches her go, swallows half her whiskey in one go and then tops up the glass, pouring another for Bernie and carrying both over to the table. Serena only registers her presence, only looks away from the window, at the soft thuds of glass on wood. Her brow is knitted, her eyes filled with worry, her hand at the base of her throat, fingers catching at her necklace, tugging the pendant back and forth along the chain. When Minerva smiles softly she doesn’t manage even the briefest smile in response, just stares at her.

‘It’ll be alright,’ Minerva promises as she sits, wishing she felt as confident as she sounds.

‘I hate it all,’ Serena mutters. ‘I hate him, I hate Dumbledore, I hate bloody Hanssen for giving in to him.’ She pauses to take a breath, adds even quieter: ‘I hate that I’ve lied to her.’

‘Then why did you?’ comes a cold voice from the doorway.

Serena’s head whips around and she gazes at Bernie, and realises she has no idea what to say to make this better.

 _And me supposed to be a diplomat,_ she thinks wryly.

All she can do is watch silently as Bernie sits opposite her, her spine rigid, shoulders tense, her eyes containing none of their usual warmth. Watch as she takes the tumbler Minerva offers and downs the whiskey in one swallow, as she sets it back on the table and leans back in her chair, as she crosses her arms and raises one eyebrow expectantly.

‘Well?’

‘Albus,’ Minerva says quietly.

Bernie breaks her stare briefly, long enough to fix Minerva with an impatient, demanding look.

‘When you and Hanssen first decided to try and get intelligence out of Edward he asked me to visit Serena, to see if she had any advice on how to do it.’

‘The young women?’ Bernie guesses, her eyes narrowing, and Serena nods. ‘Only it didn’t work.’

‘I was as surprised as anyone, believe me. He never managed to resist when we were married,’ Serena mutters. She looks down at her wine, misses the flash of sympathy that crosses Bernie’s face.

‘Albus came up with another plan. Hanssen and I both tried to argue him out of it but you know what he’s like.’

‘So she came back to see me again, asked for my help on behalf of the Order,’ Serena says, distaste seeping into her voice.

‘To – what, seduce information out of your ex while passing our secrets to him?’

‘Pretty much,’ Serena sighs, draining her glass.

‘Why?’ Bernie asks, incredulous. ‘Why would you agree to do that?’

‘Sense of duty?’ Serena says with a shrug and a twist of her lips. ‘I didn’t think it would be as bad as this, thought that I could – oh, I don’t know, that there was enough space and time between us that I could deal with him. And I didn’t expect to make a friend,’ she adds softly, looking at Bernie cautiously.

‘It hasn’t all been a lie, then? You haven’t just been pretending to be my friend?’

‘No,’ Serena says fiercely, reaching across the table to place her hand beside Bernie’s, the sides of their little fingers just touching. Bernie doesn’t move her hand closer, but neither does she pull it away.

Their gazes lock again, and Minerva and Annie quietly retreat to the next room.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Bernie asks quietly. ‘Do you not trust me?’

‘I do. And I wanted to, so much. Even before I met you I wanted you to know – you were watching Edward, after all. I thought you deserved to know what I was doing and why.’

‘But?’ Bernie prompts.

‘Every time I brought it up, Hanssen refused. He said it was safer if no one knew, although safer for who I’m not sure.’

‘The information you’ve been passing Edward?’

‘Snippets Hanssen gives me. To keep Edward useful to the other side so he’s told what they’re up to.’

‘So it hasn’t been him seducing you but the other way around. I did think you seemed too clever to be taken in by him.’

Serena lets out a harsh breath, almost a laugh. ‘I may have fallen for him once but after what he did? No, I wouldn’t make the same mistake again.’

‘You’ve been jeopardising our work,’ Bernie says softly after a long pause. ‘ _My_ work. My life, maybe.’

‘I’ve been doing what I was ordered to do,’ Serena corrects her, a little more sharply than she intended. ‘As do you. Hanssen’s the boss of both of us, after all. And I don’t believe he would ever put you in any more danger than necessary. I know I certainly wouldn’t,’ she adds, only just above a whisper, her little finger tentatively brushing Bernie’s.

‘But still,’ Bernie says tightly, pulling her hand away and standing to pace the room.

‘Who are you angry with, Bernie: me, or him?’

Bernie turns and stares at her. Her dark eyes are blazing, her whole body taut, and Serena quails a little, finds she can’t hold Bernie’s gaze and instead looks down at the tabletop, fingers finding the stem of her wineglass. She can still feel Bernie’s eyes on her until she stalks to the fireplace; Serena doesn’t look around when she hears the flames whoosh with Floo, when she hears Bernie clearly state ‘Ministry of Magic’. And then she sags a little in her seat, raises her glass with a shaking hand and drains it before rubbing at eyes stinging with tears.

‘Well, that went well,’ she says wryly when Minerva and Annie join her. Annie has brought the rest of the bottle of wine with her, but Serena shakes her head. ‘I think I’ll just head home,’ she says, voice quiet with defeat.

‘She has no right to be angry with you,’ Annie says as Serena takes a pinch of Floo powder from the box on the mantelpiece.

‘Yes she does, she has every right. I’ve lied to her. I’d be angry with me too.’

‘You didn’t have a choice,’ Annie insists.

‘We always have a choice. And I should never have agreed to do this.’


	4. Chapter 4

Serena goes into work early the next morning. Partly to avoid meeting Edward in the Atrium but mostly because she’s been unable to sleep for more than a few hours, has spent most of the night tossing and turning. So instead she sits at her desk, tense and exhausted and jittery from too much coffee and tries to make her way through the latest set of reports. But she can’t focus on anything but thoughts of Bernie.

As her colleagues start to trickle in she keeps looking up, heart in her mouth every time the door opens. Finally – _finally_ – her eyes land on the familiar mess of blonde hair and Merlin, it makes her feel worse. Bernie looks just as tired as she feels, dark circles under weary eyes, spine straight but shoulders slightly hunched, one hand stifling a yawn as she looks behind her and holds the door for Morven.

And then she glances at Serena, catches her gaze across the room; while her expression isn’t exactly friendly neither is it hostile, and Serena feels something inside her uncoil a little.

They don’t speak all morning, stay sat at their respective desks. Serena wonders if Bernie is as distracted as she is, if Bernie is making as little progress as she is. And then lunchtime rolls around, and while Serena isn’t certain her stomach is settled enough to eat she does desperately need to get out of the office for a while. So she lays down her quill, stoppers her ink bottle and stands, stretches a little and picks up her handbag, settling it safely on her shoulder. She passes Bernie on her way out, as she always does, hopes she’ll stop her with a look, a word, a touch. But she doesn’t, and Serena’s heart sinks a little.

She’s only taken two steps into the corridor when she’s accosted by Edward: he’s slouching against the opposite wall, hands in his pockets, has clearly been waiting for her.

_Probably put out he didn’t see me this morning,_ Serena thinks with a sigh. She can’t bring herself to paste a smile on her face today, tries her hardest not to scowl at him.

‘Lunch, darling?’

‘Not today, Edward,’ she replies tightly.

‘Oh come on, ‘Rena,’ he wheedles, pushing himself away from the wall and reaching towards her.

She takes a step sideways, out of his reach. ‘I said no, Edward. And don’t call me that.’

‘I know you want to,’ he says with a wink, and Serena feels anger rising inside her.

But before she can open her mouth and say something she’ll regret – professionally, at least – there’s a presence behind her, a hand on her shoulder, a soft but firm voice beside her ear.

‘I’m sorry to interrupt,’ Bernie says, in a tone Serena recognises as anything but apologetic, ‘but I really need to discuss something with you, Serena.’

Serena doesn’t look at her but nods, feels herself soften a little as Bernie squeezes slightly. ‘Of course. Another time, Edward,’ she says, not waiting for a response before she walks away, Bernie’s hand slipping down her arm to gently guide her.

They don’t speak down the corridor, in the lift, across the Atrium, out into Muggle London. Serena hadn’t expected this, had expected Bernie to drop her arm and the pretence and for them to go their separate ways once they were out of Edward’s sight. But Bernie’s hand is on her elbow now, leading her into a café, and she only lets go to pull out a chair for her.

They sit across from each other, sandwiches and coffee forming a barrier between them. Serena’s fingers have drifted to the base of her throat; Bernie is clutching her mug with both hands, holding on for dear life. When Bernie finally lifts her gaze from the Formica tabletop to meet her eye Serena almost gasps, feels a shock through her entire body at the depth of emotion she sees.

‘I’m sorry,’ Bernie says quietly. ‘I had no right to be angry with you. This is all Hanssen’s doing.’

‘I imagine you gave him quite an earful last night,’ Serena manages through her shock.

‘I, um– I may have spoken rather out of turn,’ Bernie admits, cheeks flushing slightly. ‘A little surprised I still had a job this morning, to be honest. But he deserved it,’ she adds, her voice stronger now. ‘He knows how hard it is to tell who we can trust, he shouldn’t have kept this from me. Shouldn’t have made _you_ keep this from me.’

‘No arguments here,’ Serena smiles. ‘Truce?’

Bernie holds out her hand over their lunch. ‘Truce.’

Serena reaches across to take it, her fingers and eyes lingering on Bernie’s just a little longer than necessary before she clears her throat and turns her attention to her sandwich.

‘Thank you for rescuing me from Edward,’ she says after chewing and swallowing a mouthful of cheese and tomato.

‘He should learn to take no for an answer,’ Bernie mutters angrily.

‘Never one of his strong points,’ Serena says, and sighs deeply. ‘I do hope I’m not going to have to keep this up much longer. I’ve managed to avoid having to kiss him so far but–’

Bernie’s head snaps up sharply, and Serena’s breath catches at the look in her eyes, the harshness in her voice. ‘If he tries anything,’ she begins. ‘If he tries to, to force you to–’

‘He won’t,’ Serena soothes. ‘Not really his style. But if it were – well, I may not be quite the action woman you are but I’m still handy with a hex. It’s nice, though,’ she adds, ‘to know you’ve got my back.’

‘Always,’ Bernie promises.

They return to their sandwiches, take far longer eating and chatting than they really should for lunch but neither of them cares: the office will just have to manage without them for a while.

‘You know,’ Bernie says, as she offers her arm to Serena to walk back, ‘you’re always welcome to come over to mine. You know, um, _after._ ’

‘After?’ Serena frowns.

‘After you’ve seen him,’ she says. ‘If you want. To talk about it. Or– or not, of course,’ she rambles on. ‘I just thought it might be nice for you to–’

‘It would,’ Serena smiles, cutting her off mid sentence. ‘Very.’

‘However late it is,’ Bernie says. ‘I’ll have wine, or Firewhisky, or– or ice cream, or whatever, waiting.’

Serena stops, pulling Bernie to a halt beside her, meets her warm, concerned gaze and smiles. ‘Thank you. I really would like that.’

She feels Bernie soften, feels the puff of air as she lets out a breath of relief.

‘You may come to regret the offer, though,’ Serena adds. ‘Your wine expenditure will increase dramatically.’

‘I’m sure I’ll manage somehow,’ Bernie replies with a grin, and Serena can’t help but laugh.

*          *          *

Serena leaves the office a little early on Friday: Edward has booked a table at a fancy restaurant, and she needs to get home to change before meeting him.

(‘We can't be late,’ he had said. ‘They won't hold the table for us.’

Serena had had to bite her tongue at the jab, at the reminder of all the times she'd got caught up at work during their marriage. All the ways she’s failed as a wife and mother because of her career.)

She pauses at Bernie's desk on her way out, touches her shoulder gently. ‘Goodnight. Have a good weekend.’

Bernie turns to look at her. ‘Remember what I said,’ she says quietly. ‘Doesn't matter how late.’

‘Thank you,’ Serena smiles, squeezing her shoulder.

And then she takes a steeling breath and heads out, Bernie watching her the whole way.

*

Bernie is slumped on her sofa in her pyjamas, half a mug of cold tea on the floor beside her, eyelids drooping, book resting on her chest and reading glasses slipping down her nose, when something wakes her. She blinks groggily, raises her head and wonders what it was until she hears another knock. She jumps up, grabs her wand from the coffee table and pads down the hall, suddenly alert. But when she looks through the spyhole and sees Serena she relaxes, slides back the bolt and opens the door with a soft smile on her face.

‘I hope you’ve got that ice cream in,’ Serena says by way of greeting. ‘I’m bloody starving.’

‘Food not any good?’ Bernie asks, locking the door securely again and pointing her in the direction of the kitchen. She adds a protective ward to the door, hesitates a moment and then adds another. You can never be too careful, after all. And besides if she were on the other side and the ex-wife of one of her colleagues suddenly reappeared, Bernie would have someone following her in an instant.

‘Excellent, just not enough of it.’

‘Well, I can offer ice cream,’ Bernie says, pushing her glasses up on top of her head and reaching for two glasses and a bottle of wine. ‘Or I can fix you a Wolfe special.’

‘And what, exactly, does that entail?’ Serena asks, taking the glass Bernie offers. She can’t keep a soft moan of appreciation from escaping when she sips it. ‘Shiraz,’ she smiles. ‘Edward insisted on Cab Sav, even though he knows I don’t like it.’

‘Bastard,’ Bernie grins.

Serena laughs, and then blushes as her stomach rumbles.

‘Not much of a date if you’re that hungry,’ Bernie says, opening the fridge. ‘I’d have taken you for chips on the way home.’

There’s silence from behind her and Bernie is suddenly glad of the chill on her face, glad to be able to busy herself gathering ingredients.

‘I don’t doubt you’d be a far better date than him,’ Serena says quietly.

When Bernie turns around Serena is looking at her, soft and earnest, and Bernie has no idea how to respond. So she just smiles and sets about making her signature sandwich: a glorified cheese and ham toastie with added pesto and red onion, slathered in butter and fried to a golden, oozing crisp.

When Serena’s eaten (and Bernie has ignored the burst of heat at her appreciative moans and the way she licks pesto from her lips) they settle on opposite ends of the sofa with bowls of ice cream and topped up glasses, eat and drink and laugh and talk well into the morning, until finally Serena says she’d better head home and get some sleep.

Bernie almost tells her that she doesn’t have to, that she could stay, but Serena looks exhausted and in need of her own bed, and she doesn’t want her to think she has to be polite and say yes. So instead she offers a hand and gently tugs her up from the sofa, has to suppress a yelp of surprise when Serena leans into her, briefly hugs her tight and brushes kisses to her cheeks before picking up her cloak, discarded over the back of the sofa, and walking to the fireplace.

‘Thank you, Bernie,’ she says with a smile as she takes a pinch of Floo powder.

‘Any time,’ Bernie replies. ‘Sleep well, Serena.’

*          *          *

They fall easily back into their friendship, only stronger now without Serena’s guilt over lying and Bernie’s suspicion about her loyalty. Back to bringing each other coffee, to shared glances and smiles across the office, to Serena’s fingertips brushing Bernie’s shoulders when she passes, to Bernie perching on Serena’s desk, their legs almost touching. To Serena nervously waiting each time Bernie’s out in the field, more worried than ever that Edward will have lied to her, that something will have gone wrong, that something will have happened to Bernie. To Serena’s relieved smile being the first thing Bernie’s eyes seek out when she returns.

Only now there are late nights together too, more and more as Serena is forced to make it seem like her relationship with Edward is developing and deepening. Bernie takes to napping as soon as she gets in from work, a couple of snatched hours so she can give Serena her full attention when she arrives, so she doesn’t doze off as they share a bottle of Shiraz and a tub of ice cream.

_It’s the only good thing to come out of all this,_ Serena thinks with a smile one of these nights, as Bernie holds out the tub for her to scrape clean.

‘What?’ Bernie asks, eyes narrowing as she picks up her glass.

‘Just thinking that I should be grateful for Edward and his stupidity,’ she replies, dropping the empty tub to the floor and reaching for Bernie’s free hand.

‘Otherwise I’d never have met you,’ she explains when Bernie frowns. ‘And I’m so very glad that I did.’

‘So am I,’ Bernie smiles, gazing at Serena from under her fringe.

_Oh,_ Serena thinks, with a shock of realisation. Her skin tingles where Bernie’s thumb is lightly rubbing the back of her hand, her heart is suddenly racing, her mouth dry. _This wasn’t supposed to happen._

Serena hardly gets any work done the next day. Her gaze keeps straying to Bernie: the line of her neck as she bends over her desk, her slender figure as she stands talking to Fletch, those long legs in ridiculously tight black jeans. And she notices, for the first time, just how often Bernie looks back at her, how Bernie never smiles the same way at anyone else. How her eyes linger, warm and soft, and she sometimes has to tear them away with a shake of her head.

For once it’s almost a relief when Bernie slips out to meet a contact, her worry less of a distraction than Bernie’s presence.

*

‘You were at Hogwarts with Bernie,’ Serena says to Minerva that weekend.

‘Yes.’

‘Was she– I mean, did she– is she–’

‘Is there a question in there somewhere?’ Minerva teases.

Serena opens her mouth, closes it again, huffs at herself in frustration. ‘Does she like women?’ she manages eventually.

‘Well she certainly liked – oh, what was her name, dear? Ravenclaw Seeker, the year above us?’

‘Neve Morrison,’ Annie supplies. ‘And more than liked, if I recall. Didn’t you walk in on them in the changing rooms?’

‘More than once,’ Minerva mutters. ‘It was something of a nightmare being both her friend _and_ a prefect at times.’

‘And– and since then?’ Serena asks, eyes fixed on the table top, fingers twirling the stem of her wineglass.

‘No one for a while – not that she’s told us about, anyway.’

‘It’s the job,’ Annie explains. ‘Unpredictable hours and mortal danger aren’t exactly conducive to relationships.’

‘No,’ Serena murmurs, and Minerva glares at her grinning wife. ‘No, I suppose not.’

*

‘You’ve known Serena a long time, right?’ Bernie asks Minerva, the very next evening.

‘I have,’ Minerva replies, pressing her lips together to prevent a smile.

‘Has there– has there _been_ anyone? Since Edward, I mean?’

‘There was a rather wet chap, years ago,’ she says, watching Bernie try to keep her face from falling. ‘And Robyn, of course.’

‘Robyn?’

‘They were together – oh, a year or so, wasn’t it?’

‘More like two,’ Annie corrects. ‘Really thought that one was going to last.’

‘What, um, what happened?’

‘Serena’s mother became ill, moved in with them so Serena could take care of her. Robyn couldn’t cope, wanted Serena to put her in a home and upped and left when she wouldn’t.’

‘What?’

Minerva smiles at Bernie’s outrage. ‘Quite. Not as nice as we thought she was, in the end.’

‘Putting it mildly,’ Annie mutters. ‘I’d’ve hexed the woman if she hadn’t been in a different country.’

‘But how could someone just– hang on, woman?’

*

‘I told you there was something there,’ Annie says smugly as they settle in bed once Bernie has left.

‘No meddling, dear.’

‘Me, meddle?’ Annie says, eyes wide in mock outrage.

‘Yes, you,’ Minerva admonishes sternly. ‘Just leave them be, hm? They’re both intelligent witches, how much longer could it really take them now?’

*

The next time they see each other they both know. And every look is suddenly loaded, every touch meaningful.

And everything is accompanied by the same thought:

_She likes women. But does she like me?_

*

_Yes she does,_ Serena thinks, gaze locked on Bernie’s as she very deliberately sucks her spoon clean and Bernie doesn’t quite manage to suppress a low moan, and her eyes darken before slipping away to the wall behind Serena’s right ear. _If only bloody Edward would go and get himself arrested so I could do something about it._

_Yes she does,_ Bernie thinks, daring to look back at Serena again after a few deep breaths to steady herself. Because Serena’s eyes are dark and glittering, her breath coming a little too fast, and she’s staring at Bernie’s lips like she’d rather devour them than the rest of her ice cream.

*

_Yes she does,_ Bernie thinks when Serena snuggles into her, when she opens her eyes and gazes up at Bernie with a soft, tender smile. They’d both dozed off, Serena after a long and boring dinner with Edward, Bernie after a long and fruitless evening watching for a supposed Death Eater meeting, one cancelled after Serena let their plans slip to Edward.

‘Sorry,’ Serena says sleepily, blushing slightly and starting to shift.

Bernie shakes her head, yawns, loosens the arm that somehow ended up around Serena’s shoulders but doesn’t remove it. Serena leans back into her, head coming to rest on Bernie’s shoulder with a quiet sigh.

_Yes she does,_ Serena thinks as Bernie tilts her head, her cheek resting against Serena’s hair, her arm a little firmer around Serena’s shoulders again.

She reaches for Bernie’s hand, touches gently before cautiously lacing their fingers, feels Bernie’s surprise for a moment before she squeezes in return.


	5. Chapter 5

As they move into December the chatter increases. Something’s coming, they can all feel it. Bernie and the other Aurors are out of the office more and more, watching Death Eaters and known sympathisers, meeting contacts and gathering intelligence, on top of dealing with an increasing amount of attacks and arrests. Serena and her analysts stay late more often than not, poring over their reports, trying to piece everything together, to spot a pattern amid the chaos.

The only lunch breaks Serena takes away from her desk, the only evenings she leaves early, are those she spends with Edward. She loses count of the number of times she and Bernie fall asleep on the sofa, curled together under a blanket in front of the fire after Bernie has added yet another extra layer of wards to her flat. Loses count of the number of times she has to drag herself upright and Floo home to snatch a few hours flat out in her own bed when what she really wants to do is crawl into bed with Bernie and spend the whole night in her arms.

They can all feel it coming, the tension in the office growing each day that they fail to work out just what _it_ is, each day that they fail to stop attacks on wizards and Muggles alike.

And then one afternoon Serena comes back from lunch with Edward, her cheeks flushed from the cold, a smile on her face and her eyes glinting beneath her fluffy hat. She strides towards Hanssen, motions for Bernie to follow with a tilt of her head and a quirk of her eyebrow. Bernie almost trips over her feet in her haste to find out what on earth Edward could have said to make Serena this gleeful.

‘We’ve got them,’ she murmurs to Hanssen, voice low but excited. ‘We’ve got them,’ she repeats, and this time her eyes are on Bernie’s, and it’s only Hanssen’s stream of questions that keep her from reaching for her hand.

‘This is it, Henrik,’ Serena says firmly after she tells him what Edward had blurted out only a street away from the Ministry, all puffed up with pride and ego.

‘Ms Campbell–’

‘No,’ she interrupts. ‘I’m done with this, with him. You arrest him too, or I leave. I can’t do this any more.’

Bernie holds her breath, watches as Serena holds Hanssen's gaze, fierce and unwavering, until finally he nods.

‘Very well,’ he says softly.

Serena holds herself tall until Hanssen has walked away to his office, no doubt to begin forming his plan of attack, then catches at Bernie’s hand and leads her across to her cubicle, sits heavily in her chair with Bernie leaning against her desk.

‘It’ll be over soon,’ she murmurs.

Bernie rests a hand on her shoulder, wishes Serena wasn’t still wearing her heavy cloak so she could squeeze muscles she can tell are tense.

‘You’d really have left?’

Serena looks up at her, gently touches her hand and smiles. ‘I can’t take much more of him. But this assignment isn’t the only thing keeping me in London.’

Bernie smiles at her, feels hope bloom in her chest. She almost turns her hand to twine their fingers, something they’ve been doing more and more as they doze on Bernie’s sofa, but is stopped when Raf calls her name and makes them both jump.

*

They gather at one end of the room, quiet under Hanssen’s steady, solemn gaze.

‘Thanks to the efforts of Ms Campbell we now have a date and location for the Death Eater event only hinted at as yet. Our effort against this will be Operation Parasite. Ms Campbell?’

Serena meets his eye, surprised, but steps forward at his tiny nod, clasps her hands in front of her and takes a breath before addressing her colleagues.

‘Christmas Eve,’ she begins. ‘Wyvern Lodge – it’s a stately home somewhere in the Cotswolds, we’re currently not entirely sure of its exact location. It sounds like it’s going to be their Christmas party and like it’s going to be big, complete with Muggle torture related party games,’ she adds, mouth twisting in distaste.

‘Is Voldemort going to be there?’ Jac asks.

‘Unclear,’ Serena replies. ‘But from what I can gather at least a dozen known Death Eaters will be, including some of his closest followers, plus assorted cronies and lower-level Dark Wizards.’

‘As you can tell,’ Hanssen says, stepping forward again, ‘we still do not have much to go on. So I want you all to speak to your contacts, watch your assets, gather any snippets you can to help us – particularly when it comes to pinning down the location more accurately. But _be careful_. I cannot express strongly enough how vital it is that we do not arouse their suspicion. We may never get a chance as good as this again.’

He looks around the room, looks at each of them in turn, gaze resting on each face until he’s certain the gravity of the situation has been impressed upon them.

‘We have ten days,’ he adds, with a tilt of his head. ‘I know the festive season is almost upon us and many of you have families but I’m counting on you all to give me your best, as many hours as that may take.’

There is a series of quiet groans and mutterings, and the Aurors and analysts begin to shift. Bernie watches as Raf and Fletch exchange a worried glance, knows they’re both thinking of the children they’re raising together.

‘One more thing,’ Hanssen calls above the chatter, and everyone falls silent and turns to look at him again. ‘I trust I need not remind you that the Ministry’s Yule Ball takes place on Saturday. Ms Naylor’s team will be on duty here, but the rest of you will be required to attend in your dress robes – yes, Alastor, that includes you. While you may not strictly be at work I will expect each of you to keep your eyes and ears open and your mouths closed. I don’t need to tell you that we still do not know who we can trust so not a word on any of our activities to anyone outside this room – especially not on Operation Parasite. All intelligence is to go to Ms Campbell for collation each day, she will be briefing me regularly on any updates. Thank you everyone. Ms Campbell, Ms Wolfe, if I might have a moment?’

Bernie catches Serena’s eye as they wait for the rest of their colleagues to disperse back to their desks, but Serena just lifts one shoulder in a slight shrug.

‘Now Ms Wolfe, your team will be taking the lead on this. Ms Campbell, anything more you can safely get from Edward will obviously be of great help, but more than that I want you pulling everything we’ve got so far together and making the best sense of it you can. Everything is to pass your desk before it goes any further.’

He looks at her carefully, waits for her to nod before he continues,

‘Ms Wolfe, you will work with her and begin detailing a plan of attack based on what we currently have. I envisage it will go through several revisions as more comes to light, but better to get started now. Oh, and Ms Wolfe? This is clearly too big for one team so I would appreciate it if any petty squabbles you have with Ms Naylor could be set aside.’

‘Of course,’ Bernie says with a tight smile.

‘Very well,’ Hanssen says with the tiniest of smiles. ‘Ms Campbell, I will expect my first briefing at the end of the day.’

*

‘It’s a good job Henrik works late,’ Serena mutters to Bernie several hours later, groaning as she stretches her arms above her head and feels her spine protest. ‘Oh, you’re a star,’ she smiles at her first sip of strong, hot coffee.

‘How are you getting on?’ Bernie asks, glancing at the stacks of reports covering half of Serena’s desk, the parchment covered with her own scribbles and notes.

‘Not exactly much to go on, is there? Hints and allusions, a word or name here and there. Still all this to go through, though,’ she adds, gesturing to one of the piles.

‘If only they were all as effusive as Edward.’

‘Oh Bernie, you should have seen him. So full of himself, couldn’t keep from bragging about receiving an invitation. Merlin, what did I ever see in the man?’

‘Good looks and charming personality?’ Bernie suggests, earning her a swat to her shoulder.

‘Speaking of Edward,’ Serena sighs, ‘I suppose I should organise to see him later. He’ll be in the mood to celebrate and he’s so much easier to manipulate when he’s got half a distillery inside him.’

‘Just be careful, won’t you?’ Bernie says quietly.

‘Always, darling,’ Serena smiles, reaching to touch her hand.

‘Else I’ll have to hurt him,’ she adds.

‘Oh, I think you’ll get your chance to do just that,’ Serena says, her eyes narrowing and her smile turning grim and vindictive. ‘In fact I’m counting on it, seeing as I won’t be there to do it myself.’

‘Are you asking me to curse your ex for you Ms Campbell?’ Bernie asks, eyes glinting and voice rich with teasing mirth.

‘Damn right I am. What else are friends for?’

*

Serena pieces it together, bit by bit. Bernie watches in awe as she extracts snippets from countless reports, pulls details from the depths of her memory and links them together, takes the tiniest scraps and gradually forms them into something whole and meaningful. And then reshapes it every time someone comes back with fresh intelligence.

Bernie watches in awe as in just a few days Serena gets paler and the circles under her eyes get darker, as she seems to subsist on coffee and the naps they snatch together on her sofa in the early hours, and the pastries Bernie shoves into her hands and waits, leaning on her desk with a pointed stare, until she relents and eats them. But she gets more animated too as the net tightens, a light in her eyes and a determined set to her jaw, and Bernie knows she can see the end in sight, knows she can see a life entirely _sans_ Edward almost within reach.

_What might happen then?_ she wonders. _When she doesn’t have to pretend any longer?_


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (For reference, Serena's dress robes are inspired by her [dress at Ric's college reunion](http://socket79.tumblr.com/post/153134759439) in 16.13, and Bernie's by the [RAMC mess uniform](https://goldings.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2015/05/Royal-Army-Medical-Corps-female-mess-kit.jpg) \- anyone else notice how these colours correspond with the trauma unit scrubs?).

Serena ends up sleeping at Bernie’s on Friday night, curled on her sofa after Bernie had slipped out from beside her and carefully laid her down, a cushion under her head and a blanket tucked around her. She thought about staying, about manoeuvring them so Serena was lying with her head in Bernie’s lap, or so Serena was lying on top of her, or so she was spooned around Serena, pressed tight against her back so they could both fit. But she didn’t know if she could do that, if she would even be able to sleep with Serena in her arms, if she would be able to wake and not kiss her good morning, all soft and sleep-warmed and drowsy.

So instead she padded to the hall and checked the locks again, added another ward, left a dim lamp on in one corner of the room and slipped into bed, cold and alone and longing for Serena.

 _Soon,_ she thought. _Maybe._

And then she had woken to the mattress dipping beside her, had automatically reached under her pillow for her wand before a low voice said: ‘Just me, darling.’

Bernie had relaxed, head spinning with relief, and turned to look at her.

‘You don’t mind, do you?’

‘No,’ Bernie whispered, and Serena slipped closer, hesitated a moment before nestling against her. And Bernie had wrapped an arm around her, had pressed a kiss to the top of Serena’s head before she could stop to think better of it. And Serena had turned her face into Bernie’s skin, had smiled and brushed her lips to Bernie’s collarbone.

And Bernie hadn’t been able to sleep another wink.

Which is why she’s now slumped at her desk yawning into her first coffee of the day, watching enviously as Serena, brighter eyed than she’s been all month, reviews the intelligence that has come in overnight, holds conversations with each of her analysts on the progress of their teams, updates Hanssen, and still manages to send a wink and a brilliant smile Bernie’s way.

It might be Saturday and almost Christmas but war doesn’t respect weekends or holidays and the office is buzzing, Aurors in and out all day. By midmorning Bernie has hit her stride (thanks, in large part, to the spiced pumpkin pastry Serena placed on her desk with her second coffee). By mid afternoon she sees Serena is flagging ( _finally,_ she thinks. _How has she lasted this long?_ ) and returns the favour with a pain au chocolat, lingering at Serena’s desk while she eats it and grinning like a fool when Serena places her free hand on Bernie’s knee.

It isn’t until early evening that she remembers what today is.

‘Come on, you,’ Serena says.

‘What?’ Bernie asks, frowning. ‘I can’t leave now, too much to do on Parasite.’

‘Time to go and get your glad rags on,’ Serena insists. ‘For the ball,’ she adds, when Bernie still looks clueless.

‘I’d forgotten that was tonight,’ Bernie groans. ‘Can’t I just–’

‘No,’ Serena says firmly. She catches Hanssen’s eye across the office, exchanges a glance with him and then leaves Bernie’s side to chivvy along the other reluctant Aurors and analysts, shepherding them all towards the door as they shoot envious glances at Jac’s team.

‘Just be grateful,’ Serena murmurs to Bernie, ‘that you don’t have to go on Edward’s arm.’

Bernie pulls a face somehow both apologetic and disgusted, allows Serena to pull her from her chair and out of the office, past the milky twilight of the enchanted windows, into the lift alongside Raf and Fletch, Morven and Arthur.

‘I’ve got your back, remember,’ she says softly as they wait to Floo to their respective flats to get ready.

‘My knight in shining armour?’ Serena teases with a wink.

‘You’ve got it,’ Bernie replies. And then she leans closer, uses a hug goodbye to hide a whisper into Serena’s ear. ‘It’ll be over soon.’

*

Serena waits for Edward in the Atrium, as they agreed. They might be at war but you wouldn’t know it from the amount of sparkling, twinkling decorations that have transformed the room since she left just a few hours ago.

He turns up in a set of dress robes that have definitely seen better days, grabs and drains a flute of champagne before he’s even kissed her cheek in greeting.

 _Wearing far too much cologne,_ Serena thinks, wrinkling her nose.

‘You look radiant, as always, ‘Rena,’ he says, picking up another glass for himself and passing one to her. She doesn’t miss the way his eyes drop to her cleavage and linger there.

‘Thank you,’ she says, letting the hated pet name slip for now, not willing to start arguing this early in the evening.

 _I do look good_ , she thinks, as she slips her hand into the crook of his elbow and lets him lead her to the conference room, magically enlarged for the night. She’s wearing black, nothing fancy but a little more fitted and revealing than her everyday robes, a cloak swirling with heavy gold embroidery over the top. Not for Edward, of course; the only person whose reaction she cares about tonight, the only person whose reaction she considered as she was getting ready, is Bernie.

Serena stays on Edward’s arm as he slowly makes his way around the ballroom, stopping to talk to colleagues and friends.

 _How many can we trust?_ she wonders. She already knows some are on the guest list for Christmas Eve, wonders how many Ministry employees will be arrested in just a few short days. She remembers Hanssen’s orders, says as little as possible about what she does and listens raptly, charms with a look and a smile, a flutter of her eyelashes and a wave of her hand. Edward has clearly told them that she can be trusted, despite where she works; they seem to be almost tripping over themselves to tell her just how important they are, and for a moment Serena wonders if someone put a charm on her as she was leaving the office.

Guy Self is the worst, she decides. The smarmy git could certainly give Edward a run for his money in the oily charm department, only he’s actually got brains as well. He’s less open than the rest, talks a lot but says very little of substance. _He is a politician, I suppose,_ she thinks, fighting to hide her disgust as he talks of Purebloods and Mudbloods, never quite openly supporting Voldemort but certainly hinting at it. _I hope he’s there,_ she thinks viciously, pasting a smile on her face as he excuses himself.

Left alone for a moment while Edward goes in search of more alcohol Serena scans the room, looking for her colleagues. She’s almost certain they made a plan to turn up as late as they could get away with, but even so they should be here by now. Her eyes pass over them entirely to begin with, but then she hears Bernie’s distinctive laugh and her head snaps around so fast her neck hurts.

It turns out that Aurors have a dress uniform. Serena wonders how she’s never known this before, watches the knot of them in their vivid blue and red robes, all shifting uncomfortably and unsuccessfully trying to blend into the corner of the room.

And then Raf takes a step to one side, and Serena has to fight to keep her jaw from dropping when she sees Bernie. The jacket nips in at her waist and flares over her hips perfectly, and Serena can’t stop staring at her.

‘Never thought you’d have a thing for a wizard in uniform,’ Edward teases, passing her a fresh glass.

She tears her gaze from Bernie and rolls her eyes at him, misses the way Bernie looks at her from under her fringe and over the rim of her glass.

*

Bernie’s gaze keeps straying to Serena, still by Edward’s side and moving between groups of Purebloods and politicians and Ministry officials, looking increasingly uncomfortable as the evening progresses. She has to fight the urge to stride across the room and rescue her, knows Serena is probably charming useful intelligence from them with every other sentence.

 _How can he not appreciate her?_ she wonders, watching as Edward’s eyes catch on every young witch he sees. _How could he ever look at another woman when he’s got her?_

Every now and then Serena looks up, looks at her, meets her eye. Bernie tries not to think about the way her expression alters, tries not to think what it means that Serena’s face lights up every time. This is hardly the time or place for that.

*

Edward is making yet another trip to the bar and has got caught up talking to Rookwood, leaving Serena standing alone in one corner of the room. She closes her eyes and sighs deeply, hopes he’ll be gone for a while because, much as it might be useful, talking politics with Edward’s little Pureblood pals is starting to wear on her patience. Not to mention Edward’s increasing intoxication and wandering hands and eyes.

‘Having a good evening, Ms Campbell?’

Somehow she manages not to jump, opens her eyes to find Henrik looming beside her.

‘How on earth do you manage to move so quietly?’ she mutters, to which he just smiles. ‘Depends on your definition of good. It’s certainly been eye opening, meeting individuals of interest in person for the first time.’

Hanssen nods and looks out across the dance floor, his eyes seeking Edward, finding him just in time to see him pat the rear of a young aide from the Minister’s office. _Mary Claire,_ he thinks, recognising her as one of the witches they used to try and get close to Edward. _Clearly he never suspected her._

‘Not dancing tonight?’ he asks softly.

‘I’m not especially interested in giving him the opportunity to get that close. And as you can see he’s had far too much to drink now, and is far more interested in a younger model.’

‘I can’t imagine he is the only person present who would care to partner you.’

Serena looks at him sharply, but Hanssen’s face remains blank.

‘I seem to remember you being rather accomplished,’ he adds, offering his hand with a meaningful look. ‘Unless it would cause problems for you?’

She shakes her head, takes his hand and allows him to lead her onto the floor.

Bernie catches sight of them as they elegantly, sedately pass, their heads bowed close, lips hardly moving as they talk quietly. She doesn’t notice that Raf has asked her a question and is staring at her waiting for an answer, is far too lost in the sudden sharpening of her longing to dance with Serena and a sudden flare of jealousy for their boss.

*

Serena and Hanssen make three circuits of the ballroom before he excuses himself. Serena instantly searches out Bernie again, waits until Bernie looks at her and then tilts her head towards the bathroom, eyebrows raised slightly. Bernie nods almost imperceptibly, watches Serena begin to wend her way around the room. Bernie does the same, slips between groups of people without catching any eyes or attention, pushes open the heavy door and slips inside. Serena clearly hasn’t been so lucky; as she waits Bernie fidgets with her cuffs, her buttons, her hair, curls falling from a knot that had been neat at the start of the evening.

She looks up sharply when the door open, relaxes when she sees that it’s Serena.

‘Sorry,’ she grimaces. ‘Can’t go two steps without someone talking to me.’

‘Rather you than me,’ Bernie says.

Serena smiles and sighs, tension dropping from her frame. ‘Don’t you look magnificent,’ she says, gaze tracing Bernie’s figure and then rising to meet hers.

Bernie can barely breathe at the darkness of her eyes; her gulp is audible in the otherwise silent room.

Serena steps closer, one hand running down the lapel of Bernie’s jacket, toying with the topmost brass button and lingering there. ‘You don’t like it, though. None of you do.’

‘Not used to being so conspicuous,’ Bernie mutters.

‘I know, darling.’

‘Although if everyone looked at me like you are,’ she risks.

Serena breathes in sharply, fingers tightening around the fabric, her other hand rising to grip Bernie’s elbow. ‘Bernie,’ she warns.

‘Those robes, Serena,’ she continues, ignoring her. ‘I don’t know how he can take his eyes off you for a second.’

‘Bernie,’ Serena repeats hoarsely, chest heaving and breath stuttering.

‘Because I can’t,’ Bernie says, resting a hand lightly on Serena’s waist, thinking wildly that it must be the Firewhisky giving her courage.

Serena clears her throat and drops her hands to her sides, then raises one to tug first at the hair at the nape of her neck and then at her necklace. Bernie slowly lowers her hand too, takes a step back, turns away to look in the mirror.

‘I can’t do this.’

‘Sorry,’ Bernie mutters, her cheeks pinking. _I’ve ruined it,_ she thinks, desperately trying not to panic. _I’ve misread her. Oh, you idiot._

‘No, Bernie.’ Serena shakes her head. ‘Just – oh, not tonight, not here.’

Their eyes meet in the mirror, and Bernie wonders how she could possibly have missed the longing etched into every line on Serena’s face.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says again, and this time Serena nods and offers a tiny smile.

‘Right,’ she says, with a deep breath and a sigh. ‘Let’s get you smartened up again. I’ve seen the official photographer making the rounds – got to have you lot looking your best.’

Bernie smiles too, allows Serena to fix her hair and tries not to breathe in her perfume and _her_ , keeps her hands firmly by her sides so she doesn’t reach for her.

‘Much better,’ Serena murmurs.

And then she leans closer and presses a kiss to her cheek, carefully wipes the crimson stain off with her thumb while Bernie stands frozen. When she can finally move again Bernie reciprocates, and her thumb lingers on Serena’s cheekbone even though there’s no reason for it to because that’s not where she kissed her.

They’re close now, close enough that the tiniest movement would bring their lips together. But Bernie steps back, hand slipping to Serena’s shoulder, down her arm and then away, puts a safe distance between them.

‘You should tell the rest of them to stand up straighter. It would make a much better impression, inspire more confidence in your abilities to protect us all.’

‘Why don’t you tell them yourself?’ Bernie suggests, offering Serena her arm. ‘Pretty sure they’re more likely to listen to you on this.’

‘Lead on, then,’ Serena replies, slipping her hand into the crook of Bernie’s elbow.

They walk back to the others together, and Bernie watches Serena flatter and flirt with them, watches as they all stand a little taller and prouder under her attention.

Serena winks at her, then goes to walk away as the photographer approaches.

‘Oh no you don’t,’ Bernie says, reaching for her.

‘You don’t want me in it,’ Serena protests.

‘You’re part of the team,’ Morven insists, echoed by the rest of them.

So Serena allows Bernie to pull her in as they all shuffle closer under the photographer’s command, allows Bernie to twine their fingers, hidden behind Fletch, allows herself to smile at how right it feels to hold her hand.


	7. Chapter 7

The next few days pass in a blur of preparations. Aurors and analysts brief Serena, Serena briefs Bernie, the two of them brief Hanssen, Hanssen briefs the entire office with them by his side to add details and answer questions.

Every day, morning and afternoon, sometimes evening too.

‘You’re incredible, you know?’ Bernie says quietly, the day before Christmas Eve, setting a mug of coffee down amid the parchments covering Serena’s desk as, frowning, she scans the latest reports from Jac.

‘Hm?’

‘You,’ Bernie repeats, ‘are incredible.’

Serena looks up at her, marking her place with a finger, eyebrow quirked in question.

‘All this,’ Bernie says, gesturing to her desk. ‘Remembering it all, fitting it all together.’

‘Just good at spotting connections,’ Serena says, sipping her coffee gratefully. ‘You’re the one who actually does something about it.’

‘Couldn’t do it without you,’ Bernie says seriously. ‘Parasite wouldn’t exist without you, Serena.’

‘I just hope I’ve got it right.’ Serena bites her lip, fiddles with her necklace. ‘If I haven’t, if I’ve missed something, if something goes wrong–’

‘You haven't, and it won’t.’

When Serena still looks worried she lays a hand on her shoulder, squeezes gently. By some tacit agreement they’ve been careful about touching each other since the ball, mindful of the importance of staying focused until Parasite is over, but she can’t think how else to reassure her.

‘I couldn’t bear it if something were to happen to you and it was my fault.’

‘I’ll be fine, Serena.’ Bernie leans closer, so she can whisper in her ear. ‘I’ve got something to fight for, after all.’

Bernie hears Serena’s breath falter, sits back and wraps both hands tightly around her mug.

‘What are you doing for Christmas?’ Serena asks, her voice almost steady.

‘Haven’t really thought about it,’ Bernie replies with a shrug. ‘Are you spending it with Ellie?’

‘She’s decided to stay in France with a friend. I don’t think she could quite believe it when I agreed without an argument,’ she adds, smiling fondly. ‘But I’d much rather she was away from all this.’

Bernie nods, knows she means what’s happening with Edward as much as the rest of the war.

‘I had an owl from Minerva,’ Serena says, voice low enough that no one else can hear. ‘She’ll be there tomorrow night, keeping watch.’

Bernie frowns at her, wonders where this is going and how it links to their conversation.

‘She asked if we’d like to spend Christmas with them, if neither of us had plans.’

‘Oh. That would be lovely.’

Serena nods. ‘I thought maybe I’d go up while the two of you are out, wait with Annie. Not sure I want to be on my own,’ she adds softly, staring at her desk.

Bernie feels her heart twist at how scared Serena looks, remembers that while she might be feeling the buzz of adrenaline this – fieldwork – isn’t what Serena does.

‘We’re going to be just fine,’ she says. ‘We’ve all worked so hard on this, you most of all. There’s no one I’d trust more.’

‘Really?’

‘Really,’ Bernie confirms, letting her fingertips brush Serena’s arm when she stands up.

*

Christmas Eve in the office is tense. One final briefing, one final chance to run over the details, for each team to finalise their tasks. They leave in dribs and drabs so as not to draw attention, made easier by the fact that most departments are closing early today.

Soon only Bernie’s team is left. Serena sits at her desk, hands gripping her chair until her knuckles whiten to keep herself from jumping up and throwing her arms around Bernie.

‘Are you off?’ she says with a smile when Bernie walks over to her, but her voice is too bright, too brittle, and Bernie sees right through it.

‘Come here,’ she says softly.

Serena stands, and Bernie draws her close and holds her tight.

‘I’ll see you later,’ she murmurs. ‘You’d better have a glass of Firewhiskey waiting.’

‘I’ll have a whole bottle,’ Serena promises. ‘Be careful, Bernie.’

Bernie nods, reluctantly lets her go and steps away, heads for the door where the others are waiting.

‘Oh, and Serena?’ she calls, their eyes locking across the office. ‘I’ll get him.’

*

Serena barely eats any of the dinner Annie places in front of her. Barely reads any of her book, keeps realising she’s been staring at the same page for minutes on end without taking in a single word.

Annie, on the other hand, only looks up when they hear a quiet crack outside, swiftly sets down her book and picks up her wand, peers through the glass panel before opening the door to Minerva.

‘All ok?’ she asks softly as Serena walks up behind her.

‘They were not best pleased at having their party crashed, didn’t have a clue we were coming. Put up quite a fight.’

‘Casualties?’

‘Three,’ Minerva says sadly, meeting Serena’s terrified gaze. ‘Including young Digby.’

Annie rubs her wife’s arm soothingly, knows she taught him, knows he only left Hogwarts a few years ago. Serena feels a trembling rush of relief, hates herself for it but can’t help it.

‘She’ll be a while – there are a lot of them to deal with.’

‘I’ll wait up,’ Serena says. ‘You two get some sleep.’

It’s still pitch black but well into Christmas morning when Bernie finally appears with a whoosh of emerald flames, dusty and bruised and with torn robes, but _alive_. Serena is on her feet in an instant, eyes checking her from head to toe as she steps from the fireplace.

‘I’m fine, Serena,’ she says, catching at Serena’s hands and gripping them.

‘Edward?’ Serena asks, holding her breath.

‘Hexed him myself,’ Bernie replies, with a grim smile of satisfaction.

‘It’s over?’ she whispers.

Bernie nods. She sees Serena waver for a moment, sees her push the weakness away and stand a little taller against the rush of relief. But then Bernie tugs her closer, slips an arm around her waist, coaxes until Serena gives in and sags, buries her face in Bernie’s shoulder and lets herself be held.

She only moves away when Bernie shifts and winces, frowns at her sharp intake of breath.

‘You’re hurt, darling.’

‘I just landed awkwardly when there was an explosion. Really, Serena, I’m ok.’

‘Let me take a look. Bernie,’ she says firmly, when she opens her mouth to protest. ‘Let me take a look,’ she insists. ‘And I’ll see if I can find something for the pain in Annie’s cupboard.’

‘Ok,’ Bernie says meekly. ‘That would be nice.’

Serena slips Bernie’s ripped cloak from her shoulders, followed by her jacket, unbuttons her shirt to leave her in just a tight vest that leaves little to the imagination, but all her focus is on Bernie’s pain. Her hands are gentle as she smooths them over Bernie’s back, fingers only pressing lightly, but Bernie still winces when she finds the bruised spot on her spine.

‘Sorry,’ Serena murmurs. ‘Sit down, I’ll be back in a moment.’

Bernie limps to the sofa and sinks gratefully into the soft cushions, lets her eyes slip closed and listens to Serena rummaging in the cupboards.

‘Here.’

She opens her eyes, takes the glass Serena’s holding out to her and swallows it in one gulp without question.

‘Now, bed – before that takes effect.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Bernie smiles, standing gingerly and trying not to limp too much as she slowly follows Serena upstairs.

*

Bernie wakes in the dark and quiet, knows it’s still early and wonders why she’s no longer asleep. And then she tries to move and barely stops herself crying out with the sudden pain shooting through her body, radiating from that spot on her spine. She screws her eyes shut, tries to breathe deeply but even that hurts, so she settles for shallow and steady instead. When it becomes apparent the pain isn’t going to recede she grits her teeth and edges a shaking hand under her pillow until she finds her wand, grateful that her drowsy self of a few hours ago had remembered to shove it there.

She tries to focus, forces herself to push the pain away and think of happy memories ( _Serena, think of Serena, think of sharing ice cream and falling asleep together and the ball_ ) until finally a silvery wolf appears. It slinks from the room, and Bernie relaxes her grip as the pain floods back.

She doesn’t hear the creaks from the room across the landing, the opening of one door and then another, doesn’t see the light from the tip of Serena’s wand. Barely registers the mattress dipping beside her, the warm hand on her shoulder.

‘Bernie?’

‘Hurts,’ is all she can manage.

She’s just aware of a dim light filling the room, knows Serena must be looking at her but can’t even try to rearrange her face into something less contorted, something less obviously betraying weakness.

‘Where?’ Serena asks, voice soft, concerned but steady.

‘E-everywhere,’ Bernie stutters. ‘Can’t move.’

‘Because it hurts or because you can’t?’

‘Hurts.’

‘Alright.’

She feels Serena get up, then a draft of cold air as she pulls back the blankets, the dip as she sits behind her.

‘I’m just going to take a look, ok?’

‘Hm.’

Serena’s hands are gentle as they tug at her top, barely touching her skin, but it still makes Bernie’s breath hitch. Which only makes the pain worse.

‘I think that’s a little more than a bruise from falling,’ Serena says.

She pulls the blankets up around Bernie’s shoulders again, moves to crouch in front of her and reaches for her hand. Bernie slowly slips hers into it, grips weakly. Serena’s other hand rises to stroke Bernie’s hair from her face, to uncover eyes wide with pain and fear.

‘Rather beyond my skills, I’m afraid. I’ll get you something to ease the pain but I daren’t do anything else in case I make it worse.’

‘St Mungo’s?’

‘Definitely.’

‘Sorry.’

‘For what?’ Serena asks, stroking her forehead.

‘Ruining Christmas.’

‘Hardly your fault, darling. I should have made you get it checked out properly last night. And,’ she adds with a smile, ‘thanks to you I no longer have to spend any time with Edward. Which might just be the best Christmas present ever.’

*

Serena waits nervously in the room the Healer led her to when they took Bernie away, fingers now pressing into the bridge of her nose, now fluttering at the base of her throat, now fiddling with her necklace. She doesn’t know what they’re doing to Bernie, just hopes that it works because her stomach is churning and her chest aching with worry.

When Bernie is finally wheeled in her face is still pale and tight but she reaches a hand towards Serena without crumpling in pain. Serena scrambles from her chair to take it, eyes scanning Bernie’s face.

‘‘m ok,’ she mumbles drowsily.

‘Given you the good stuff, have they?’ Serena teases, forcing her voice to hold steady.

‘She needs rest,’ the Healer says firmly.

Serena nods, but when she tries to move away Bernie grips her hand tighter and, when Serena turns back to her, she smiles.

‘‘nk you.’

Serena smiles, brushes Bernie’s fringe from her forehead and drops a light kiss to the exposed skin. ‘I’ll let you sleep,’ she murmurs.

‘Come back?’ Bernie asks, fighting to keep her eyes open.

‘Of course, darling. I’ll just pop and get a cup of tea.’

Bernie lets her eyes close at this. Serena ignores the pointed glare of the Healer and stays until she’s fallen asleep, watches for a few minutes as her chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm.

 _I could’ve lost her,_ she thinks. _I could’ve lost her before we even had chance to–_

The Healer bustles back in again. Serena sniffs, clears her throat, makes it off the ward and into the toilets before the tears spill over. However much she tries she can’t shake the image of Bernie, small and pale and _scared_ as the Healers swept her away. She muffles her sobs with a hand over her mouth, reminds herself over and over that Bernie’s ok until she’s calm enough to wipe her eyes, pull herself together with a couple of deep breaths and then head in search of the cafeteria.

By the time she’s made herself eat something and finished her cup of tea, her hands have stopped trembling. She even manages to exchange smiles and Christmas greetings with staff and visiting relatives as she makes her way to send an owl to Minerva and one to Henrik, charming the scrolls to keep them safe from prying eyes.

And then she walks back to Bernie’s room, pulls a chair close to her bed and waits.

*

When Bernie stirs, the first thing she’s aware of is a hand covering hers. She opens her eyes, blinking against the harsh lighting, and Serena’s face comes into view.

‘Hello you,’ she smiles. ‘How are you feeling?’

Bernie frowns, takes a moment to take stock. ‘Sore,’ she admits. ‘Sleepy. But better.’

‘Good. You had me worried for a moment there.’

‘Sorry,’ Bernie murmurs, thumb brushing Serena’s hand. ‘Thank you.’

‘You’re very welcome. Just don’t do it again, hm? If you wanted my attention all you had to do was ask.’

Bernie manages half a laugh before she gasps in pain, slams her eyes shut and breathes through it as Serena murmurs soothingly.

‘No jokes for a while, then,’ she says when Bernie looks at her again.

‘Have to keep that sparkling wit under control,’ Bernie smiles.

‘Or inflict it on someone else,’ Serena says with a wink.

‘Lucky them.’

They pass the afternoon making up stories about the others on the ward, Bernie drifting in and out of sleep, her hand always in Serena’s even when Healers come in to check on her. Until later one comes in with her evening dose of potions, waits as she swallows with a grimace.

‘We’ll be keeping you in overnight, at least,’ he says, and then turns to Serena. ‘I’m afraid visiting hours are over, you can come back and see your wife again in the morning.’

‘Of course,’ Serena mutters, blushing.

Bernie stares at her, waits for the Healer to finish bustling around and move on to the next bed and then says quietly, ‘Wife?’

‘It was the only way they’d let me stay,’ Serena says, not looking at her. ‘I couldn’t bear not knowing, not being here when you woke up.’

‘Glad you did,’ Bernie smiles, squeezing her hand. ‘Glad you’re here.’

‘Mrs Wolfe?’ the Healer says sternly, glaring at her.

‘Just going,’ Serena says, rolling her eyes at Bernie. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, darling.’

Bernie smiles and nods, and then suddenly Serena is leaning over her, is kissing her, soft and chaste but lingering just a little.

‘Sleep well.’

‘You too,’ Bernie manages, through the shock of feeling Serena’s lips on hers.

*

Bernie wakes very suddenly to excruciating pain shooting down her spine again, grunts in surprise.

‘Some help in here, please?’ comes Serena’s voice, firm and authoritative. And then, closer and softer: ‘It’s alright, Bernie.’

Through the agony Bernie feels one hand stroking her hair, the other slipping into hers. She grips it hard, knows she must be hurting Serena but can’t stop herself.

‘It’s alright,’ Serena repeats. ‘It’s alright, darling, just breathe.’

And then someone is forcing something vile tasting between her lips and she makes herself swallow. And still Serena is murmuring to her, soothing her, and Bernie focuses on her voice, her touch, until the potion kicks in and the haze retreats enough for her to open her eyes, to relax her grip.

‘Sorry,’ she mutters as Serena flexes her fingers.

But Serena just smiles, gazes at her with concerned eyes. ‘Better?’

Bernie nods, reaches for Serena’s hand and gently laces their fingers, taking care not to squeeze. After a moment she slowly lifts it to her lips and, eyes fixed on Serena’s, presses a kiss to her knuckles. Serena gasps softly but doesn’t pull her hand away. So Bernie kisses it again, kisses each finger, turns it over and kisses her palm.

‘Better?’ she asks, voice low and husky.

Now it’s Serena’s turn to nod mutely, helpless to do anything but gaze at Bernie.

And then a Healer bustles over and Bernie flushes, and Serena slips her hand away to toy with her necklace.

‘How– how’s she doing?’

‘Very well,’ the Healer smiles. ‘You should be able to go home later, as long as you keep improving. And keep resting,’ he adds, when Bernie fails to stifle a yawn.

‘I’ll let you get on with the important business of napping, then,’ Serena teases. ‘I need to drop into the office and see Hanssen anyway.’

‘Be careful, won’t you?’ Bernie says quietly, reaching to clutch Serena’s hand. ‘You’re as much a target as the rest of us, but you don’t have our training.’

‘I will be, I’m just going to Floo straight there and back.’ She stands, brushes a kiss to Bernie’s forehead. ‘I’ll see you later.’

*

The Ministry is quiet, just a skeleton staff covering the holiday, and Serena heads straight for Hanssen’s office with only a detour for coffee.

‘How is Ms Wolfe?’ he asks, as soon as she’s closed the door behind her.

‘She’ll be fine,’ Serena says. ‘Although I imagine she’s going to be out of action for a little while. Not sure I want to be the one who has to tell her.’

‘And you, Ms Campbell?’

‘Me?’

He inclines his head, waits patiently.

Serena sighs. ‘Can I be honest?’

‘Of course.’

‘I can’t quite believe it’s all over. How successful was Parasite?’

‘Incredibly,’ Hanssen says, with the closest thing to a full smile Serena has ever seen on his face. ‘By all accounts they had no idea we were onto them. Excellent work, Ms Campbell.’

‘Minerva said Digby was killed.’

‘A great shame, he had excellent potential. But,’ he sighs, ‘this is a war, after all, and casualties on both sides are only to be expected.’

He passes over a sheaf of reports on Parasite, and they spend the next few hours poring over them, discussing consequences and next actions.

‘You’re planning on staying with us, then?’ Hanssen asks, eyebrows raised slightly. ‘With Edward in Azkaban you're free to leave.’

Serena looks at him shrewdly, tries to gauge his feelings.

‘I, of course, would much prefer it if you remained,’ he says. ‘You have, unsurprisingly, been a real asset to the department, and your continued presence would be much appreciated in the difficult times ahead.’

‘I never thought I’d say this, but I’d like to stay.’

‘Excellent. I will factor you into our strategy.’

‘It’s good to work with you again, Henrik,’ Serena smiles.

‘Likewise. Now, before you return to St Mungo’s we need to discuss your safety in the coming days.’

Serena nods, hides her surprise because she’s sure she didn’t mention she was going back to see Bernie. _Mind, he always did have an annoying knack of knowing everything,_ she thinks. _Infuriating man._

‘We don’t know for certain but I imagine it’s only a matter of time before they discover Edward was the source of the major leak, and that you were the recipient. As such I’m not comfortable with you being on your own, and it’s hardly practical for you to continue staying with Minerva and Annie.’

‘If you wanted to spend time with me you should have just asked, Henrik,’ Serena teases, delighting in his slight blush and discomfited expression.

‘I’m serious, Serena.’

‘I know,’ she assures him. ‘Bernie said much the same. What do you propose?’

‘I can, of course, arrange for someone to act as bodyguard for you – Raf, perhaps. However,’ he continues before she can protest, ‘I suspect there may be a more acceptable solution. Ms Wolfe, I imagine, will require company when she is discharged, for medical reasons?’

‘The Healer didn’t say, but I’d have thought so.’

‘In which case might we kill two birds with one stone, do you think?’


	8. Chapter 8

‘You’ll need to come back for a check-up in a week,’ the Healer says as he completes Bernie’s discharge form. ‘Until then, no strenuous activity.’

‘What a shame,’ Serena smirks, winking at Bernie, who blushes fiercely.

‘Usually I’d tell you to find someone to stay with you for a couple of days, just in case,’ he adds. ‘But I can see that won’t be a problem, with your lovely wife to look after you.’

‘Not a problem at all,’ Serena smiles. ‘Come on then, darling. Let’s get you home.’

Bernie is far too tired to argue. She eats the food Serena places in front of her, takes her medicine without complaint, goes to bed early without Serena even having to ask.

‘I’m not usually this biddable,’ she warns as she slowly walks to her bedroom, Serena by her side. ‘So don’t get used to it.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ Serena smiles. ‘Now, I’ll just be out here, alright? And you’re to wake me if you need anything.’

Bernie nods. ‘Thank you,’ she says wearily.

Serena steps closer, touches her arm and brushes her lips against Bernie’s cheek, feather light. ‘Sleep well.’

*

When Bernie wakes the next morning she lies very still, assessing her body. Then she cautiously moves, one arm and then the other, one leg and then the other. Her back niggles but there’s no agony, and she breathes a gentle sigh of relief. She slowly, carefully gets up, shuffles towards the kitchen leaning on walls and furniture because she’s determined not to use the cane the Healer gave her, props herself in the doorway and watched as Serena effortlessly, elegantly charms her utensils to silently make breakfast.

 _She could probably even make the Unforgivable Curses look beautiful,_ she thinks idly.

And then Serena turns and smiles at her so brightly Bernie thinks her heart might explode.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Much better,’ Bernie says, holding Serena’s gaze as she searches her face for any deceit. ‘You didn’t have to cook.’

‘Just porridge,’ Serena says, brushing her off with a wave of her hand. ‘And I have to eat, so may as well make enough for two.’

‘Fair enough,’ Bernie relents, sinking gratefully into a chair, adding a generous dollop of jam to the steaming bowl Serena places in front of her.

‘I have to go into work today,’ Serena says, a little hesitantly.

Bernie mumbles something incoherent but compliant around her spoon.

‘You’ll be alright, won’t you? On your own?’

‘Of course,’ Bernie says.

‘And you’ll rest, and take your meds if it hurts?’

Bernie humphs noncommittally, but Serena isn’t placated.

‘Please, Bernie – for my sake? I’ll just worry about you all day if not.’

‘Will I get a reward for good behaviour?’

‘Perhaps,’ Serena says with a smile.

‘Then yes, I will,’ Bernie replies.

‘I’ll see you later,’ Serena says, dropping a kiss to Bernie’s cheek as if that’s what she does every morning.

Bernie watches her go, touches her cheek and feels a fluttering warmth in her stomach at the thought of Serena coming home to her.

 _Dinner,_ she thinks. _I’ll make dinner for her._

*

Bernie falls asleep. More than once. And she _hurts_ , which doesn’t help matters. Nor does the potion the Healer sent her home with; it might ease the pain but it makes her even drowsier, and the day speeds away from her in a haze.

When she wakes the room is dim, moonlight streaming in through the window, and Serena is sat beside her, one hand on her elbow.

‘You’re back,’ she says, surprised, and then her face falls. ‘I was going to make you dinner.’

‘No need,’ Serena smiles. ‘I thought maybe curry, from that place you like around the corner?’

‘Ok,’ Bernie says quietly, disappointed with herself for failing to do even something so simple for Serena.

‘You’re hurt, Bernie,’ Serena soothes.

‘Thanks for the reminder,’ she replies sharply, and Serena recoils a little. ‘Sorry. I’m sorry.’

Serena doesn’t say anything, just nods and pats her arm.

The evening is awkward. As they eat Serena fills her in on what’s happening at work, passes on best wishes from everyone, tells her how wonderful it was not to have to worry about bumping into Edward. Bernie nods and hums in all the right places, while inside her own uselessness and idiocy boils. She doesn’t realise how tense she’s become until she tries to stand up and her back screams at her, and she crumples with a gasp.

Serena is beside her in an instant, one hand rubbing gentle circles over her spine, and Bernie has to blink back tears at how weak she feels, not even able to get up from her own table, let alone go into work. When she growls in frustration Serena wisely remains silent. When she shakes off her hand and limps to her bedroom she still says nothing, just lets her go, settles herself on the sofa with the radio on low and a book in her hand.

Bernie doesn’t come back out until Serena is asleep, the sofa transfigured into a bed. She sits beside her, hand hovering over her shoulder but not touching, watches as she snuffles in her sleep.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispers.

*

The next day starts much the same. But Bernie is feeling better again, less sleepy and less sore, and considerably more restless. She lasts until early afternoon then can’t take the quiet and inactivity any more.

Serena is talking to Hanssen when there’s a ripple of murmurs around the office. They both look up to find the source and see Bernie slowly walking into the office, leaning on a cane. She’s soon surrounded by a knot of Aurors, all grinning to see her and asking how she is. Serena, meanwhile, is silently seething.

‘Ms Wolfe?’ Hanssen calls. ‘Might I have a word, when you’re finished?’

‘Of course, Mr Hanssen,’ she replies, speaking to a few more colleagues and then making her way over.

‘I wasn’t expecting you back so soon. Are you certain you’re fit to be here?’

‘I’d rather be useful here than sat at home twiddling my thumbs.’

She stands straight and tall under his scrutiny, ignores Serena’s tight, disapproving glare and the protests of her body.

‘Very well,’ he relents. ‘Raf will fill you in.’

‘She shouldn’t be here, Henrik,’ Serena says quietly when Bernie is out of earshot.

‘I suspect you’re quite right, but telling Ms Wolfe not to work is like telling the sun not to rise. I can, however, keep her out of the field until she’s been declared medically fit.’

‘Well, that’s something I suppose,’ Serena mutters. ‘Bloody stubborn woman.’

Hanssen doesn’t respond, but Serena’s sure she sees the flicker of a smile.

Serena watches Bernie shrewdly for the rest of the afternoon. Watches as her initial enthusiasm and brightness fades, replaced by stiffness and careful movement as the colour slowly drains from her face.

‘Home, now,’ she says firmly, a little earlier than she would usually leave. ‘Now,’ she repeats when Bernie opens her mouth to protest.

Bernie stands, wincing slightly as her back complains, but shies away from the hand Serena tries to place on her arm. ‘I’m fine,’ she mutters tightly, heading out of the office at a limp.

‘What were you thinking?’ Serena blazes when she steps from the fireplace to find Bernie in the kitchen gripping the counter tightly, the unstoppered bottle of potion in front of her. ‘You’re supposed to be resting, Bernie. Do you want to make it worse?’

‘He said no _strenuous_ activity, not no activity,’ Bernie retorts.

Serena rolls her eyes. ‘Two days ago you could barely move, I think you could rest up a little more.’

‘I don’t need to,’ Bernie snaps, turning to look at her. ‘I’m not an invalid, Serena. I can manage a bit of paperwork.’

‘Oh, I don’t have the energy for this,’ Serena sighs.

‘You don’t have to look after me.’

‘Because you’ll do such a good job of it yourself?’

‘I managed just fine before you came along,’ Bernie mutters. ‘Go home, Serena. I don’t need your help.’

She regrets it as soon as the words are out of her mouth, when she sees the hurt on Serena’s face, but can’t take them back, doesn’t know how.

‘If you’re sure that’s what you want,’ Serena says softly.

Bernie doesn’t reply, closes her eyes and tries to ignore the nagging throb starting in her temples, the ache in her chest that has nothing to do with her injury.

 _You don’t deserve her,_ she thinks later, lying in bed staring at the ceiling. _She’s been so good to you and then you go and snap at her for trying to help? Stupid, stupid idiot._

*

The next morning Bernie keeps her eyes lowered to her desk, fights to stay awake against the mind numbing paperwork she’s been relegated to, fights against the surge of frustration every time her colleagues come and go and she has to stay.

 _How does she do this, all day, every day, without going mad?_ she wonders.

She can’t quite stop herself glancing over at Serena every now and then. She looks tense, pale, worried, and Bernie’s heart twists because she knows it’s all her fault.

 _She’s better off without you,_ she reminds herself. _You’ve already messed it up, all you’ll do is burden her, make it worse, hurt her more._

After lunch she’s slowly walking down the corridor when she hears a crash from what she thought was an empty office. She cautiously opens the door to find Serena helping Raf up from the floor.

‘Nicely done,’ he says, dusting off his robes. ‘Again?’

Serena nods, a determined expression on her face, and raises her wand.

Bernie watches, astonished, as she and Raf silently duel, wands flicking and swishing, until finally Serena is thrown off her feet.

‘You’ve been practicing,’ he says approvingly as she picks herself up.

‘Perfectionist,’ she admits. ‘I hate not being good at things.’

‘It’s paid off,’ Bernie says quietly. And then regrets it, because at the sound of her voice Serena freezes.

‘Spying on me now, are you?’ she asks, and Bernie entirely misses the teasing note in her voice.

‘Just happened to be passing as Raf hit the floor,’ Bernie mutters. ‘What, uh, what are you doing?’

‘Brushing up on her duelling,’ Raf says. ‘Just in case.’

‘What?’ Bernie frowns.

‘As you pointed out, I’m now a target,’ Serena says. ‘I’d rather be prepared.’

‘Oh.’ Bernie stands back as Raf leaves the room, steps back a little further as Serena follows, looks anywhere but her face so she doesn’t have to see her pity, doesn’t have to see the pain she’s causing her.

When they’ve gone she leans against the door, tips her head back and hits it gently against the wood.

_How could I not have thought about her safety?_

*

The rest of the week is much the same. Bernie hardly sleeps, hardly eats, only takes her potions because she wants to be back in the field as soon as possible. She spends her days hunched over her desk, bored almost to tears, the tension in her shoulders making her back worse; when Serena offers to take a look, to soothe the pain away, Bernie gruffly refuses, doesn’t deserve Serena’s kindness or help. She does her best to ignore Serena’s concerned glances, accepts the coffees she brings her but brushes off her attempts at conversation, pretends not to see how much Serena cares, how much it hurts her that Bernie won’t talk to her.

And then New Year’s Eve. Bernie sits in stony silence as the rest of her team, under Raf’s command, head out to patrol the Muggle festivities in Edinburgh, as the other teams leave for locations around the country, as the analysts go home, until eventually there’s just the two of them left, and Hanssen in his office.

 _This would be the perfect opportunity to work together, stuck here as I am,_ Bernie thinks sourly.

‘Drink, Bernie?’ Serena asks as she pulls on her cloak.

Bernie shakes her head, eyes still fixed on the report in front of her – the one she’s been staring at, unseeing, for the past half an hour.

‘Ok,’ she says softly. ‘Goodnight, then.’

‘Night,’ Bernie replies dully. And then she almost squeaks when Serena’s fingers brush her shoulder.

Neither of them realises Hanssen is watching from his office, fingers steepled, as Serena slowly leaves, her hands twisting and her steps reluctant, as Bernie stares after her, brow knitted and lip between her teeth, unconsciously shredding the parchment in her hands.


	9. Chapter 9

‘Ms Wolfe, Ms Campbell?’ Hanssen calls. ‘A word, if you please?’

Bernie turns from where she’s leaning over Raf’s desk, watches for a moment as Serena crosses the office and then follows, relishing the ease of movement which has returned to her.

‘I understand congratulations are in order, Ms Wolfe,’ Hanssen smiles.

Serena looks at him sharply, then at Bernie.

‘Declared fit for active duty this morning,’ Bernie confirms, not meeting Serena’s eye.

‘It’s good to have you back properly,’ Serena says quietly.

‘It’s good to be back.’

‘Now, as you’re both aware the Ministry is looking to Europe for support, both now and if things do not go to plan in the future. With this in mind, Ms Campbell I am sending you to France, to work with Mr Griffin. You are to make use of your contacts there to...’

Bernie doesn’t catch the end of Hanssen’s sentence. She’s too busy trying to fight the wave of disappointment that Serena is leaving.

 _You’ve hardly given her a reason to stay,_ she thinks bitterly. _She probably can’t wait to get away now._

With her gaze fixed on the wall she also fails to see the way Serena’s face falls before she can school her expression, the way her eyes dart to Bernie, the way her fingers twitch like she longs to reach for her.

Hanssen sees, though; sees, and allows himself the tiniest of smiles.

‘Given the considerable risk to you following your work with Edward,’ he’s saying when Bernie can hear again, ‘I am not especially comfortable sending you alone. Ms Wolfe, you will therefore accompany Ms Campbell as her bodyguard.’

‘What?’ Bernie asks, loud enough that both Serena and Hanssen stare at her, shocked.

‘You will be going to France with Ms Campbell,’ Hanssen repeats.

‘But I’m fit for duty,’ she protests. ‘And with things as they are, you need me here. It’s only going to get worse now.’

‘I am well aware of the current situation, thank you,’ Hanssen says calmly. ‘However, where I need you for the next month is at Ms Campbell’s side.’

‘I can look after myself, Henrik,’ Serena says quietly. ‘I don't need a babysitter.’

‘I beg to differ. This is by no means a slur on your abilities – or yours, Ms Wolfe. But this mission is vital, and I have decided the two of you are best qualified to carry it out, and the Minister has approved. No,’ he says firmly, holding up his hand when they both try to protest again. ‘I will not change my mind. You leave tomorrow afternoon. Here is all the information you will require. That will be all.’

Wordlessly they take the scrolls he holds out, return to their cubicles in silence. Bernie clutches the parchment with both hands, not caring that she’s crumpling it.

_She doesn’t want me to go. How could she, after I’ve pushed her away like this?_

*

Serena unrolls her parchment, scans it without taking it in, her gaze slipping over the top to study Bernie. She’s been studying Bernie a lot this past week – over parchments and mugs of coffee and the shoulders of colleagues.

 _Not more than usual,_ she admits.

But now her eyes are filled with concern rather than fondness, worry rather than want. She’s watched as Bernie’s cheeks grew paler and the circles under her eyes darker. As her shoulders rose higher with tension and she closed in on herself. As the haunted, guilty look in her eyes whenever she glanced at Serena grew, and Serena found she could do nothing about it. As the closeness and desire and whatever they were on the cusp of becoming vanished.

 _Maybe this is just what we need,_ Serena thinks with a sigh, turning her attention back to the scroll. _Just the two of us, she’ll have to talk to me._

*

The following afternoon they wait side by side in Hanssen’s office, both their gazes fixed on the clock. The hands seem to be taking forever to tick around to four o’ clock, and out of the corner of her eye Bernie can see Serena fiddling with her necklace.

‘Right,’ Hanssen says, gesturing to the magpie feather on the desk between them. ‘Good luck, and keep me updated. On three?’

They both nod and reach out, hands inches from each other.

‘One, two, three.’

They touch the feather at the same moment and Bernie feels the familiar jerk behind her navel pulling her forwards, closes her eyes as the world swirls around them and braces herself for impact.

Her feet hit the ground and she feels her spine jar, staggers a few steps but manages to stay upright, automatically puts her arm out to steady Serena as she wobbles.

‘I hate travelling by Portkey,’ Serena mutters, taking a few deep breaths.

‘Ok?’ Bernie asks quietly, hand still on Serena’s arm as she looks around them.

‘Yes, yes.’ She clears her throat. ‘Thank you.’

Bernie looks at her, smiles briefly and then realises she’s still touching Serena, and lets her hand drop to her side.

‘Must be our welcome,’ she says, nodding towards a witch crossing the field and heading for them.

‘Jolly good.’ Serena straightens her robes, runs a hand through her hair. ‘Shall we?’

Bernie hangs back a little, stretches her back out with a grimace while Serena’s attention is elsewhere, while she greets the pretty witch with kisses to her cheeks. She doesn’t need to be within earshot to know that she’s flirting. Or that Serena is flirting back. Jealousy twists, hot and sickening and _stupid_ , in her gut, but now Serena and the witch are turning to her so she pastes a smile on her face, hopes it’s convincing enough to pass Serena’s notice, and strides towards them.

‘Bernie,’ she says, holding out her hand.

‘Colette,’ she replies, shaking it firmly. ‘A pleasure to meet you.’

‘Likewise.’

‘I was just telling Serena that we’ve been watching the area and there’s no sign of any suspicious activity.’

‘Tip top,’ Bernie says, not even a hint of levity in her voice. ‘Are we going to stand around here all day or shall we go, before it gets dark?’

She ignores the glare Serena shoots her, gestures for them both to walk on ahead, glances around them as she follows. It’s not that she doesn’t trust Colette, not as such. She just doesn’t know her, even if Serena clearly does, and she’s not going to fail Serena in this, not going to let anything happen to her. Not after she promised that she had her back.

A few strides behind, she catches enough of their conversation to get the gist, to know that they’re catching up on each other, on Serena’s other ex-colleagues, on mutual friends, on current events. Her ears prick when she hears her own name, when Serena tells Colette that she arrested Edward herself. When she adds that Bernie is ‘the most fantastic, fearless Auror’, accompanied by a glance over her shoulder, Bernie blushes and frowns and looks away, embarrassed and undeserving.

It’s just starting to get dark, but even so Bernie can tell they’re surrounded by vineyards. _Naturally,_ she thinks. _Where else would she live?_

Colette stays long enough for Serena and Bernie to cast the protective charms Hanssen insisted on. Serena grumbles the whole time that it really isn’t necessary, that Edward didn’t know exactly where she lived so how could anyone else?

‘Fidelius?’ Serena says. ‘Really? I’m hardly a major player, I don’t think I’m important enough to warrant this sort of protection.’

‘You are,’ Bernie says firmly – _and a little shortly_ , Serena thinks – her eyes blazing as she glares at Serena.

‘Fine,’ she relents, glad Bernie is the one doing the casting because suddenly her hands are trembling and her mind is blank at the intensity in Bernie’s eyes.

She clears her throat, turns away to wave Colette off then walks around the house, flicking her wand to remove and neatly fold dust sheets, to make the bed in her room and, with a sigh, in the spare.

When she comes back into the kitchen it’s to find Bernie sliding an omelette onto a plate and pouring another thin layer of eggs into the pan, fresh bread and a bowl of salad from the supplies Colette brought for them already on the table, along with an open bottle of wine and two glasses.

‘Thank you,’ Serena says.

Bernie just nods, keeps her attention on the hot pan. Serena pours the wine and then tucks into her omelette, allows her eyes to linger on Bernie’s back, notes the tension in her shoulders and wonders if Bernie would allow her to take a look. Longs to smooth her palms over tight muscles, to press her thumbs around the sharp edges of her shoulder blades, to ease out the knots. Maybe ease out the knots in Bernie’s mind too, the tangles she can see but not understand in Bernie’s furrowed brow and dark eyes.

 _No,_ she decides sadly, when Bernie sits down opposite her to eat and keeps her gaze fixed firmly on her plate, nothing but the chinks of cutlery on china breaking the silence when less than a fortnight ago the room would have been filled with words and laughter, touches and meaningful looks.

Once their plates are cleared and their glasses emptied, and the dishes have washed themselves, Bernie hastily excuses herself to bed.

‘Goodnight,’ Serena says to her disappearing back.

She glances at the half empty bottle, hesitates a moments before pouring herself another glass. She takes a large sip and then rests her head in her hands with a heavy sigh.

 _What did I do?_ she thinks. _Was it all too much, the thought of it becoming real, the thought of us becoming – well,_ us _?_

Another sip, as she listens to the quiet creaks of Bernie moving around her room. She wonders if it would be crossing a line to follow her, to slip into the room and coax out what's been bothering Bernie so much. To storm in, even, and demand that she tell her.

 _Yes_ , she decides. _Yes, I think it would. Ah well, we can talk over breakfast._

But Bernie wakes late after, if the circles under her eyes are anything to go by, a night of tossing and turning and unpleasant dreams. She rushes into the kitchen as she pulls on her cloak, hair a mess of tangled curls, only manages a mouthful of bread and jam and half a cup of coffee before they have to leave for the embassy.

Serena puts her bad mood today – her silence and sullen looks – down to low blood sugar and sleeping in an unfamiliar bed, and the ache in her back she's trying to hide but that Serena knows is there from the way she's walking. Tries not to let it bother her that Bernie doesn't respond to her snide comments about the state of the embassy’s work relating to the war, that Bernie insists on walking a pace behind her rather than by her side, that she sits in a corner of the absent ambassador’s office rather than at the desk as Serena conducts her meetings and examines countless scrolls. That she never stands close enough for Serena to touch.

She tries, instead, to focus on her work – _their_ work, passes a stack of scrolls to Bernie to scan while she does the same, interviews embassy staff with Bernie in the periphery of her vision, mutters under her breath about Ric’s clear failure to understand what the hell’s going on and, therefore, to respond appropriately.

They don’t take a lunch break because Serena doesn’t think she can face the awkward silence, instead eat as they work, as Serena begins to draw up an action plan, smiling grimly as she thinks about how Ric is going to react.

*

They eat dinner with Colette and a group of Serena's other ex-colleagues, sit opposite each other in the dimly lit bistro, and Serena forces all the frustrations of the day from her mind and instead, now, allows herself to focus solely on Bernie. Serena cautiously stretches out her leg until her foot knocks against Bernie's, watches as her breath hitches and her hands freeze in the act of cutting her chicken. Lowers her gaze to her own plate when Bernie looks up but sneaks a glance through her eyelashes to see the slightest frown of confusion, thinks she can see longing in her eyes but it's mingled with something else and there isn't enough light for her to work out what it is.

It's late by the time they Apparate back to the house. Loosened by wine and tiredness Serena pats Bernie’s arm, lets her hand linger at her elbow, thumb rubbing the knobbly joint through her jacket.

‘Tea?’ she murmurs.

‘I think I’ll just head to bed, actually,’ Bernie replies, slipping free of Serena’s grasp without looking at her. She only makes it two steps before Serena’s voice makes her freeze.

‘What have I done wrong, Bernie?’ she asks softly. ‘I know you’re frustrated at Hanssen for sending you here but I thought we were friends, at least. Is it really so terrible having to spend time with me?’

Taken aback, Bernie slowly turns around and stares at her, eyes wide and mouth slightly open.

Serena waits. Waits until it becomes clear Bernie isn’t going to say anything, and then walks into the kitchen with her shoulders slumped.

Bernie watches her go, wants to call to her, to reach out and touch her, but can’t make herself move.

‘You utter, utter idiot,’ she mutters under her breath.

And then she gathers her wits enough to follow, finds Serena leaning against the table with one hand pinching the bridge of her nose, the other grasping her necklace.

‘I, uh, I thought you didn’t want me here,’ Bernie says quietly.

‘Of course I do, Bernie.’

‘But you said to Hanssen–’

‘You seemed so set against coming. I thought you wanted to stay in London, so I tried to persuade Hanssen that I didn’t need protecting so he didn’t need to send you. So you could do what would make you happy.’

‘I thought you wanted to come back to France, wanted to get away from me.’

‘No, darling,’ Serena says, and Bernie feels a rush of warmth at the endearment.

‘Oh,’ Bernie breathes, sinking into a chair. ‘You– I–’

‘Words are not exactly your strong suit, are they?’ Serena says wryly.

Bernie shakes her head, jumps a little when Serena’s hand comes to rest lightly on her shoulder – not squeezing, not gripping, just _there._ She sighs, suddenly realises just how much she’s missed Serena’s casual touches, and her shoulders drop, and she feels the pull of tight muscles stretching.

‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry I snapped at you, sorry I pushed you away. I just– I hated it, being weak and useless and a burden, and I took it out on you because you were there and you were being so _kind,_ and I’m not used to having someone.’

‘Well you’d better get used to it, Wolfe. It’ll take more than that to get rid of me.’

Bernie looks around, sees that Serena is smiling, feels the corners of her own lips quirk upwards in response.

‘And you weren’t a burden. I wanted to help you because I care about you, very much.’

‘You– you do?’

‘Yes. I thought maybe after, well, after Parasite you’d changed your mind, realised you weren’t interested in me.’

‘No, Serena,’ Bernie blurts out, covering Serena’s hand with her own. ‘Merlin, no. I shouldn’t have taken my frustration out on you, none of it was your fault. And I knew I was hurting you but I thought you were better off without me. I’ve hurt people I care about before, I didn’t want to hurt you too.’

‘Pushing me away perhaps wasn’t the best way to go about that.’

‘No,’ Bernie says with a rueful smile. ‘I was rubbish, I’m sorry.’

‘You can talk to me, you know. I’m your friend, Bernie, before anything else.’

‘Anything – _else_?’ Bernie asks, hope rising within her.

‘That’s– well, that’s where we were heading, isn’t it?’

Bernie says nothing, just stares at Serena, gazes into her eyes.

‘The ball?’ Serena adds softly, thumb rubbing Bernie’s shoulder.

‘Yes,’ Bernie says, more an exhale than a word. ‘You, uh, have you seen the photo?’

Serena nods. ‘Even my photographic self can’t stop gazing at you,’ she says wryly. ‘I’ve spent so long looking at it, wondering if I imagined it all.’ She doesn’t add that she has a copy on her bedside table in London so that it was the first thing she saw in the morning and the last thing she saw at night. That she has another copy in her purse, that she stares at it and strokes her finger across it more times a day than she would ever admit to.

‘You didn’t imagine it,’ Bernie says, jumping to her feet and grasping Serena’s hands. ‘You didn’t,’ she repeats, softer. ‘I’ve just been an idiot.’

‘You’ve been injured, and frustrated,’ Serena corrects.

‘That’s no excuse,’ Bernie mutters. ‘I’m not good at – well, _this_.’

‘Me neither.’

‘It scares me,’ Bernie admits, gaze dropping from Serena’s. ‘Ridiculous, isn’t it? Fully trained Auror, thinks nothing of going into a room full of Death Eaters but the thought of a relationship, of letting someone else in?’

‘No, it isn’t,’ Serena says, squeezing Bernie’s hands. ‘It scares me too.’

‘Really?’ Bernie asks, looking at her again.

‘I’ve never felt like this about anyone.’

Bernie swallows hard. Serena holds her gaze for a moment, then gently draws her closer. And Bernie lets her, lets herself be pulled into Serena’s arms, be pulled against Serena’s warmth. Allows her tense body to finally soften, allows her arms to slide around Serena’s waist, allows herself to breathe Serena in.

‘Merlin, I’ve missed you,’ Serena murmurs into her shoulder.

‘Missed you too,’ Bernie whispers, voice thick with tears. ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.’

‘Shh,’ Serena soothes, fingers stroking Bernie’s back. ‘Shh, darling, I know you are.’


	10. Chapter 10

Bernie sleeps much better that night, wakes at a far more reasonable hour and even has time to glance sleepily at herself in the mirror and run a hand through her hair. She’s still bleary though, yawns and clumsily rubs her eyes as she walks into the kitchen to find Serena already there, making coffee. This early it’s dark outside and the room is lit with soft lamps; bathed in their golden warmth, Serena seems to glow. It makes Bernie stop in her tracks and almost stumble, one hand shooting out to grab the doorframe to keep herself upright.

Serena is beside her in an instant, brow knitting with worry. ‘Are you alright? Is it your back?’

Bernie shakes her head, straightens up and reaches to cup Serena’s cheek, thumb stroking the soft skin beneath her eye.

Serena smiles, mirrors Bernie’s actions, draws her so their foreheads touch.

‘You’re so beautiful,’ Bernie murmurs.

‘Flattery will get you everywhere,’ Serena teases.

‘Not flattery, just the truth,’ Bernie replies seriously.

She pulls back a little, sees how Serena’s eyes flick down to her lips and then back up, knows her own eyes are doing the same. Serena nudges their noses together gently, hesitates a moment as they breath each other's air.

And then, just as their lips are about to touch, the coffee pot splutters on the stove. Serena growls in the back of her throat, but Bernie gently pushes her away.

‘Go on, neither of us is any good until we’ve had our first caffeine hit.’

Serena lets go reluctantly, pours the coffee, strong and hot, while Bernie gets out bread and jam. They sit around one corner of the big table, feet knocking and eyes meeting.

‘So what’s the plan for today?’ Bernie asks, wrapping both hands around her mug and drawing it closer.

‘Hm?’ Serena clears her throat, flushes when she realises she’s been staring at Bernie’s fingers. ‘Sorry, what did you say?’

‘What are we doing today?’ Bernie repeats, fighting to hide a smirk.

‘Crossing wands with Ric Griffin, I suspect,’ Serena says. She drags her eyes to meet Bernie’s but that doesn’t really help, not when they’re so dark and sparkling, so she drops her gaze to the table instead, clears her throat again and tries to regain some semblance of self-control.

‘Do you think he’s even read any of Hanssen’s memos?’

‘Oh yes,’ Serena replies, rolling her eyes. ‘He just works at a different speed to the rest of the world. I’ll be giving him a piece of my mind this morning. Speaking of which,’ she adds, glancing at the clock, ‘we’d best get going.’

‘Get in place before the enemy, hm?’ Bernie smiles. ‘Excellent plan.’

‘Not enemy,’ Serena corrects. ‘Adversary, perhaps.’

She catches at Bernie’s fingers as they cross to the fireplace, smiles at her almost shyly.

‘I’ve got your back today,’ Bernie promises, squeezing gently, and Serena nods.

*

They’re firmly ensconced in Ric’s office when he arrives. He stops in his tracks just inside the door but, to Bernie’s begrudging admiration, his face betrays no shock.

‘Serena,’ he says tightly. ‘Making yourself comfortable in my chair, I see.’

‘Good to see you, Ric,’ Serena smiles, but doesn’t get up. ‘Yes, Sacha was most helpful and accommodating when we arrived yesterday. This is Bernie Wolfe. Bernie, Ric Griffin,’

‘Good to meet you, Ms Wolfe,’ Ric says politely, shaking her hand.

‘Likewise,’ Bernie replies with a small smile. _Firm grip,_ she notes, watching in amusement as Ric hesitates before sitting uncomfortably in the visitor’s chair on the wrong side of his desk.

‘I understand you’ve been rewriting my strategy,’ he begins.

‘Yes, about that, Ric,’ Serena interrupts before he can go any further. ‘I don’t want to step on your toes, but it really is imperative that we start moving just a little bit faster on securing support and allies in the event that things don’t go our way.’

‘You don’t think that’s likely, do you?’

Serena smiles but there’s no mirth on her face, in her eyes. ‘I’m not sure I’d go as far as likely, but certainly possible.’

She glances at Bernie, catches her eye and raises one eyebrow ever so slightly. They hadn’t talked about this, hadn’t agreed on what role Bernie would play in this meeting, but she knows precisely what Serena needs from her and answers the silent question with a nod. They have to persuade him, or their mission is only going to be harder.

And so she listens as Serena coaxes Ric’s view on the war out of him, as she tells him what the atmosphere in London and the rest of the country is like, chips in with her own experiences, tries to get across the growing suspicion and fear and chaos. Tells him about Operation Parasite and how a number of those they arrested were Ministry employees, how they hadn’t previously been aware that all of them were Death Eaters.

‘I heard about Edward,’ Ric says quietly, watching Serena almost as carefully as Bernie is. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be,’ Serena says, eyes flicking to Bernie’s. ‘I was there to spy on him, so it’s a cause for celebration not commiseration.’

Ric stares at her, and then laughs. ‘Of course you were.’ And then his smile fades. ‘Is it really that bad?’

‘I’m afraid so,’ Serena confirms.

‘And Hanssen, in his infinite wisdom, has persuaded the Minister that I was unable to see to matters adequately without your assistance?’

‘Oh Ric, I’m sure it’s not a reflection on your ability,’ Serena says sweetly. ‘I just have a lot of contacts here too, and what with it being of such importance any assistance can surely only be a good thing?’

Their eyes meet, and Ric is the one who eventually looks away, throwing his hands up in defeat. ‘Fine, fine,’ he sighs. ‘Just try not to trample on everyone, won’t you?’

‘I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,’ Serena says with a wink.

Ric shakes his head, exasperated. ‘You can’t have my office though.’

‘We’ll sit in the corner, quiet as mice,’ Serena assures him. ‘You won’t even notice us.’

‘I highly doubt that,’ Ric says dryly. ‘Come on, I’ll have Essie get you settled in. I do have meetings, Serena,’ he adds, when she pouts at him.

‘Oh, alright,’ she concedes under his stern gaze.

*

After yesterday half of Ric’s staff are already in awe of Serena, and the other half terrified of her and the reputation of the quiet Auror beside her, so in no time at all they’re comfortably ensconced in a decent sized office with mugs of steaming coffee and plates of fresh pastries and fruit, and instructions to shout if they need anything, anything at all.

Bernie waits until the door swings shut behind Essie then perches on the edge of the desk and grins at Serena. ‘You’re in your element, aren’t you?’

Serena tilts her head in assent, hesitates for a moment and then comes closer, reaching hesitantly for Bernie’s hand, fingers just curling around hers. Bernie doesn’t move other than to return the pressure, to slowly, lightly rub her thumb across Serena’s knuckles. They stand for a while in silence until eventually Serena sighs, punctuates the moment with a squeeze to Bernie’s fingers.

‘I suppose we’d better get on,’ she says, slipping her hand free and walking around the desk.

‘Mm,’ Bernie agrees, turning to sit in her chair, pulling her mug closer and wrapping both hands around it. ‘Put me to work, Campbell,’ she smiles.

They spend the rest of the day reviewing the reports they didn’t get to yesterday and talking to Ric’s staff again, invite Essie in for lunch and sit around the table to eat and talk. Bernie has to hide a smile at how Serena flatters and charms and effortlessly coaxes gossip – both office and wider – from her.

By mid-afternoon Bernie is banished out to the main office so Serena can start putting her strategy together.

‘Too much of a distraction,’ Serena admits, rolling her eyes at herself and at Bernie’s smug smile. ‘Go on, away with you. Lurk and listen to the gossip.’

‘I’ll have you know I’m a highly trained Auror,’ Bernie says, feigning resentment.

‘And therefore excellent at both lurking _and_ gathering intelligence. May as well put your skills to good use.’

‘No arguing with you, is there?’ Bernie grumbles with an exaggerated sigh.

‘Nope,’ Serena grins.

But before Bernie can stand up Serena reaches for her hand again, and her smile softens and so do her eyes, and Bernie smiles in reassurance because she can see the worry in her eyes, the worry that she’s taken this seriously, that she hasn’t realised Serena was teasing.

‘I’ll bring you some fresh coffee in an hour and you can talk me through it?’ she suggests.

Serena nods. Their hands linger and then Bernie makes herself get up, break eye contact, leave. Serena watches her go, stares at the closed door for a moment before clearing her throat, one hand going to her pendant as she begins to consider the notes spread in front of her.

Bernie is as good as her word, taps lightly on the door before coming in to find Serena scribbling frantically, raising the hand not holding her quill to keep Bernie from speaking until she’s finished. She obeys, silently waves her wand to set the tray of coffee and more pastries (pressed on her by Sacha) on the round table in the corner, patiently waits for Serena to lay down her quill, to lift her hands above her head and stretch her back.

‘Come here,’ she coaxes softly, pulling out one of the chairs around the table.

Serena crosses the office and sits, takes the coffee Bernie places in her hands and sips gratefully. And then jumps and almost spills it on herself when Bernie’s fingers light on her shoulders, curses her reactions when they flutter away again but Bernie is sitting down before she can do anything about it.

‘So how’s it going?’ Bernie asks. ‘Have you injected some urgency into Ric’s strategy?’

‘Not so much injected as replaced entirely,’ she replies with a wry smile. ‘He’s good at what he does, don’t get me wrong, but moving fast isn’t exactly in his repertoire.’

‘Tell me about it?’ Bernie requests.

So Serena does, and Bernie gets lost in the spark in her eyes and the movements of her hands as she explains what they need to do, who she thinks is most important in achieving this, who should be easy and who will take a little more persuasion.

They move back to the desk and Bernie leans close over Serena’s shoulder, almost pressed against her, and studies her plans, adds her own suggestions, thinks about every person and meeting and location on Serena's wish list and considers her safety in each scenario.

They don't notice the office emptying on the other side of the door until Essie knocks, sticks her head in to say goodnight, tells them to go home and get some rest.

‘That time already?’ Serena asks, surprised, as Bernie glances at her watch.

‘Apparently so. Dinner?’

‘Excellent idea,’ Serena smiles, putting the stopper in her ink bottle and tidying the desk. ‘There's a lovely place just around the corner, I think you'd really like it. They have an extensive wine list too,’ she adds, smiling.

‘Ok,’ Bernie agrees quietly, moving away to pull on her jacket and cloak.

Serena pauses in gathering her sheets of parchment, looks at Bernie and frowns. ‘What is it?’

Bernie shakes her head. ‘Nothing.’

Serena looks at her a moment longer, then walks around the desk and stands beside her. ‘Tell me, darling,’ she says gently.

‘I'd just prefer not to go out again tonight,’ Bernie says quietly, gaze on Serena's cloak on its hanger.

Serena touches her elbow, waits for Bernie to look at her. ‘Okay. Quiet night in, just the two of us?’

Bernie nods, eyes wide and worried.

‘Sounds lovely,’ Serena smiles.

‘But the restaurant–’

‘Will still be there another night,’ Serena interrupts. She reaches across Bernie for her cloak, presses against her and relishes both her warmth and her slight shiver. ‘Shall we, then?’ She holds out her arm, smiles when after only the slightest hesitation Bernie loops hers through it.

*

It isn’t until they’re back at Serena’s and look in the cupboards that they realise the food Colette gave them when they arrived is almost all gone.

‘I’ll pop out,’ Serena says, pulling her cloak back on, but Bernie stops her with a hand on her arm.

‘I’m here to protect you. I wouldn’t be doing a very good job if I let you go out on your own now, would I?’

‘I can take care of myself, Bernie,’ Serena protests.

‘I know you can. But – just humour me, please?’

‘Oh, alright,’ Serena sighs.

‘I won’t be long,’ Bernie promises.

‘I’ll open the wine.’

‘Of course you will,’ Bernie teases. She closes the little distance between them, reaches to tangle their fingers. ‘Back soon,’ she murmurs. And then she leans even closer and softly kisses her. It’s quick and chaste, the routine goodbye kiss of an established couple. But they aren’t an established couple, and there’s nothing routine about Bernie kissing her goodbye.

Serena feels Bernie freeze as she pulls back, sees the panic widen her eyes. ‘It’s alright, darling,’ she soothes, tugging her back and kissing her again, more firmly. She kisses her until she feels Bernie soften, until she feels Bernie’s arm slip around her waist and hold her tight, until she can’t breathe and the world spins around them and they have to draw apart. She has to bite her lip to keep herself from grinning like a fool, but Bernie makes no such effort and the smile spreading across her face is the brightest Serena has ever seen.

‘Go on,’ Serena urges, even as she nudges her nose against Bernie’s, even as Bernie ghosts their lips together again like she can’t help herself. ‘Or we’ll starve.’

‘Hm,’ Bernie agrees, dropping one more kiss to the corner of Serena’s mouth and then gazing at her. Their fingers are still intertwined, and Bernie raises them up to press her lips to Serena’s knuckles.

‘Be careful,’ Serena murmurs.

‘Always,’ Bernie promises.

‘And hurry back?’

‘I will,’ Bernie promises again, with a smile and another kiss to Serena's hand.

She slips her fingers free, tugs her cloak around her shoulders, glances at Serena one last time before stepping outside.

Serena listens to the pop as she Apparates, stands staring into space with her hands twisting, fingers brushing across where Bernie's lips had touched. Then she blinks, clears her throat, takes two goblets from the cupboard and chooses a bottle of wine, summons a corkscrew and pops the cork out by hand because some things are better done without magic and as far as she's concerned anything to do with wine falls into that category. She resists the temptation to pour a glass and take a sip, instead paces the kitchen, one hand pulling at her pendant, smiling so much her cheeks ache. She remembers the first time she flew, the swooping of her stomach and the utter joy of leaving the ground far below her. It's not dissimilar to the way she feels now: her stomach is swooping in exactly the same way, and she's filled with elation. Only now her blood is fizzing too, with nerves and excitement and desire.

‘It was just a kiss,’ she mutters under her breath. ‘Get a grip of yourself, Campbell.’

And she almost has, but there's another pop from outside and then Bernie is through the front door and into the kitchen, and she's all windswept and glowing from the cold, and it's all Serena can do not to jump on her and kiss her again, again, again.

They make dinner together, cook and flirt and stare and touch. At least Serena touches, and Bernie leans into her but keeps her hands to herself. Serena can see the slight tension in her shoulders, her spine, the way her fingers flicker towards her but never quite close the gap, wonders just what might be unleashed should Bernie relinquish her self control even a little. It's a thought that makes her shiver.


	11. Chapter 11

The next morning Serena sits in the kitchen with her coffee, one leg bouncing and one hand playing with her hair, her collar, her necklace, as she glances yet again at the clock. Because Bernie isn’t up yet and the longer Serena waits the more her excitement fades and her nerves grow, the more she worries that Bernie is hiding in her room until the last minute, avoiding her because of last night, because they kissed.

And then she hears a door open, hears footsteps rushing downstairs so quickly she fears Bernie will trip.

‘Sorry,’ she says, breathless. ‘Overslept.’

‘Again?’ Serena asks, forcing her voice to remain light.

‘Best night’s sleep I’ve had since – well, since I mucked everything up,’ she admits, with a shy smile.

Serena’s glad she’s sitting down, because the rush of relief makes her feel almost faint. She makes herself get up, turns around and busies herself pouring Bernie a mug of coffee to hide the blush at her next thought: _How well you’ll sleep when we’re in the same bed, when I’ve had my way with you._

She takes a deep breath, adds a splash of milk to Bernie’s coffee then turns back, starts in surprise because Bernie has silently moved closer, is now just inches from her.

‘Here,’ Serena says quietly, fingers lingering on Bernie’s as they wrap around the mug, stroking over knuckles and nails.

She should move away, she knows, but instead meets Bernie’s eye, cautiously leans in and waits a breath before kissing her softly, not really much more than a brush of lips, feels Bernie smile and can’t help returning it.

‘Good morning,’ she murmurs into the tiny space between them before stepping away and topping up her own mug.

When she turns around again Bernie’s eyes are still on her from beneath her fringe, that shy smile peeking over the top of her mug.

‘What?’

Bernie shakes her head, her lips pulling into a wider smile.

‘What?’ Serena asks again. ‘I can withhold coffee, you know,’ she teases.

Bernie’s eyes widen in mock horror.

‘Or kisses,’ Serena adds, knowing full well that it’s a lie, that now she’s kissed Bernie once, now she knows how soft Bernie’s lips feel against hers, she never wants to stop.

‘If the Dark Side had you we’d really have to worry, with threats like that,’ Bernie mutters.

Serena laughs, but the slight questioning frown is still creasing her brow.

‘You’re beautiful, that’s all,’ Bernie explains. ‘And I can’t quite believe I just started my day with a kiss from Serena Campbell.’

‘Something you could get used to?’ Serena asks, and while her tone is light Bernie can see the hint of worry in her eyes.

‘Very definitely,’ she replies, her voice and gaze steady. ‘Might even become as essential to my functioning as caffeine.’

‘Oh really?’ Serena asks, taking a step closer. There’s a glint in her eye that makes Bernie’s breath catch in her throat, makes her reach a hand behind her to grasp at the edge of the marble countertop.

Serena’s gaze flicks down to Bernie’s lips then back up and Bernie’s certain she’s going to kiss her again, begins to lean towards her.

But instead Serena just smirks. ‘That could be very valuable knowledge indeed,’ she says, before sauntering away.

Bernie gulps, leans back against the counter because her entire body is suddenly trembling, grips her mug so hard her knuckles turn white to keep herself from grabbing Serena’s shoulders and spinning her around to kiss her.

*

Another day at the embassy. They sit around the table with Sacha and Essie and Serena is all business as she outlines the new strategy, as Sacha makes suggestions and nods his approval, as Essie answers queries about who would be best positioned to carry out each task. Bernie is a silent partner here, really, leans back in her chair with her coffee clasped to her chest and watches Serena. The first few times Serena meets her eye as she’s talking Bernie blushes and glances away. And then she realises that she’s allowed to look now, and the next time it’s Serena whose cheeks pink because Bernie holds her gaze steady, Serena who falters over her words and has to look down at the parchment in front of her, has to clear her throat and blink before she can continue.

Neither of them notices Essie’s eyes flick between them, her slight frown and then tiny smile of understanding.

Bernie remains silent when Serena briefs Ric too, sits beside her at his desk even though Serena had insisted she didn’t need to, had told her it was just a boring meeting to get his approval, a mere formality because she has the authority to do as she thinks best whether he agrees or not.

‘Better to show solidarity,’ Bernie says in justification, her hand inches from the small of Serena’s back as they walk down the corridor. ‘Remind him that you’re here for the Ministry. Besides, I promised I’d have your back, didn’t I?’

Really, though, it’s because seeing Serena like this – effortlessly powerful and charming and so clearly in her element – is something she doesn’t think she’ll ever get enough of, something she’s certain would make even the dullest of meetings worth sitting through. She has a silver tongue, this witch, there’s no doubt about it.

 _Her tongue,_ Bernie muses, losing track of Serena’s words for a moment before she blinks away the hot, dark thoughts, shifts in her seat and ignores the ache between her thighs, hopes to Merlin it doesn’t show on her face.

Serena clearly knows Ric well, has perfect counters to all of his arguments, even appears to concede to him on one point and Bernie has to hide a smile because she knows that in fact Serena has got her way on everything while still managing to make the reluctant ambassador think he’s had some input. She wonders just how many wizards have underestimated her before, if any of them have ever realised how expertly they’ve been played.

Ric delegates the briefing of his staff to them, excuses himself by saying he has a meeting to prepare for.

‘Must be important, if you’re willing to leave me unsupervised,’ Serena teases, eyebrow quirked. ‘To do with the war?’

‘Not exactly,’ Ric says, opening the door in an attempt to silence any further questions.

‘Now I’m intrigued,’ Serena says, eyes glinting. But Ric just shakes his head and smiles, looks at her pointedly until she huffs and walks past him. ‘Oh alright, no fun you.’

She hasn’t given up, though.

‘Don’t,’ she says when, once the staff are briefed and they’re back in their office, Bernie goes to close the door. And instead of sitting at her desk she takes what has been Bernie’s seat at the round table, where Ric’s office door is just visible.

‘You’re incorrigible,’ Bernie scolds fondly.

‘Just curious as to who could possibly be so important to him,’ Serena says, glaring when Bernie snorts.

Serena has all but given up hope as the afternoon progresses, as they write scroll after scroll and pile them up for a trip to the owlery, stops looking up every time they hear footsteps down the corridor or a door opening. So it’s only the sound of Ric’s voice that makes her head snap up, just in time to catch a glimpse of a smartly dressed witch disappearing past him into his office.

‘Damn,’ Serena mutters. ‘I know it’s pathetic, but the opportunity of having something to tease Ric with is just too good to miss.’

‘Don’t worry, we’ll get all the gossip later,’ Bernie smirks. ‘You get these sent off, and I’ll do my best office lurking and intelligence gathering.’

When Serena comes back from the owlery Bernie is sat at the table waiting for her, smiling smugly. ‘Françoise Yeats,’ she says. She gestures to the coffee on the table and Serena sits beside her, pours herself a mug and tilts her head in question as she takes a sip. ‘Ex-wife of a prominent French Ministry politician, now getting into politics herself after years on his arm. According to the rumour mill,’ she adds, lowering her voice so Serena has to lean closer to hear her, ‘she’s become _quite_ the regular visitor at the embassy.’

‘Oh really?’

‘Mm-hm. _And_ it seems she’ll be at the drinks reception this evening.’

‘You don’t mean the one Ric convinced us not to bother attending?’

‘The very same.’

‘The sly dog,’ Serena smiles, shaking her head.

‘We’re staying, aren’t we?’ Bernie asks resignedly.

‘You don’t mind, do you darling?’

‘Not at all,’ Bernie sighs.

‘I know you don’t like functions,’ Serena apologises.

‘It’s fine. Besides, we might pick up something useful. As long as I don’t have to wear my dress robes.’

‘I wouldn’t make you do that, however gorgeous you looked in them.’

‘Gorgeous, hm?’ Bernie murmurs.

‘Completely,’ Serena breathes, reaching to brush her fingers lightly over Bernie’s.

Bernie meets Serena’s gaze, and her breath catches at how dark her eyes are.

‘Serena,’ she manages.

But then there’s a tap on the open door and Serena’s hand flies away to her throat, and Bernie grips her mug even tighter, fixes her eyes firmly on the glossy table top as Serena speaks to an aide whose name she can’t remember, as Serena gets up to look at the parchment he’s holding.

And then he walks away, and there’s the quiet click of the door closing, and Serena’s hands come to rest lightly on Bernie’s shoulders, thumbs sweeping across muscles she hadn’t realised had become tense.

‘You don’t have to stay.’

‘It’s my job,’ Bernie replies. She feels Serena’s thumbs stop moving, quickly reaches up and lays a hand on one of hers, cranes her neck to look around at her. ‘And I’m not going to give up an evening with you for anything,’ she adds with a soft smile.

‘Dinner first?’ Serena suggests, thumb now running along the side of Bernie’s finger, and Bernie nods.

*

‘You weren’t kidding about the extensive wine list, were you?’ Bernie chuckles as they sit at a quiet corner table examining their menus.

‘I never joke about wine,’ Serena says, eyes glinting in the low light. ‘What do you fancy?’

Bernie holds Serena’s gaze, narrows her eyes and tilts her head, delights in the way Serena blushes and looks away.

‘Whatever you recommend.’

Serena motions to the hovering waiter and rattles off an order, and almost instantly a bottle of Shiraz and a basket of bread is placed between them.

‘So, Beauxbatons tomorrow,’ Bernie says, tearing off a piece of bread and spreading a thick layer of butter on it. ‘It’ll be nice for you to see Ellie.’

Serena hums noncommittally, sips her wine and then sighs. ‘You never wanted kids?’

Bernie shakes her head. ‘I wasn’t good with children when I _was_ a child. I’m happy enough to play aunt but I like being able to give them back at the end of the day.’

‘Very wise. I love my daughter, but she’s – well, she’s feisty, talented, obstinate, impatient, often rude. Sometimes lovely.’

‘Like mother, like daughter?’ Bernie deadpans.

‘Yes, I suppose so. Maybe that’s why things can be so difficult between us.’

‘She’s also a teenager. Aren’t they all supposed to be difficult?’

‘Were you?’

‘I’m sure Min could tell you countless tales of all the things I got up to at school,’ Bernie smiles. ‘You, on the other hand – prefect?’

‘Head Girl,’ Serena admits.

‘I knew it,’ Bernie teases. ‘Good thing we weren’t at school together.’

‘Let me guess: out of bed at all hours to meet girls in secluded corridors?’

‘You wound me, Ms Campbell,’ Bernie gasps, clutching at her chest in mock outrage. ‘Sometimes I was sneaking out to go down to the kitchens.’

‘Maybe I’d have been a good influence on you. Although if Minerva couldn’t manage it…’

Bernie barks a laugh at this, one that has Serena staring at her and turns the heads of their fellow diners.

‘Sorry,’ Bernie wheezes. ‘What about Ellie? Is she following in her mother’s footsteps?’

‘Prefect too,’ Serena smiles, filling with pride.

They pause in their conversation as the waiter brings their food, as they unfold napkins and begin to tuck in. The food is delicious, but four bites in it turns to dust in Bernie’s mouth.

‘I never asked,’ she says quietly, setting down her cutlery as she fills with guilt, ‘how Ellie took the news about Edward.’

‘I don’t know.’ Serena sighs heavily, sets down her cutlery too, looks suddenly downcast.

‘I’m sorry,’ Bernie says quickly. ‘I– I shouldn’t have–’

‘No,’ Serena says softly, reaching to touch her fingertips to Bernie’s, pinching the bridge of her nose with her other hand. ‘I don’t know if she’s mad at me or just being her usual uncommunicative self.’ She laughs mirthlessly, and Bernie inches her hand forward so her fingers slip between Serena’s. ‘She’s probably more upset that I lied to her about what I was doing than she is about him.’

‘They aren’t close?’

‘Edward was always the fun parent, the one who spoiled her. But she could see right through him too, got used to being disappointed by him a long time ago.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Bernie murmurs. ‘That can’t have been easy.’

‘No,’ Serena admits. ‘Still, being locked up in Azbakan will severely diminish his parenting. Hard to maintain your position as the nice one when you’re in league with murdering bastards,’ she adds, picking up her fork and viciously stabbing a piece of potato.

‘True,’ Bernie agrees. She watches Serena a moment longer then returns to her food too, eating one handed so she doesn’t have to let go of her.

*

They head back to the embassy reluctantly, arm in arm, after they’ve lingered over their wine and Serena has touched up her make up. When he sees them Ric’s smile fades momentarily before he manages to fix it back in place, but Serena just grins and winks, her eyes flicking between him and Madame Yeats.

‘Play nice, won’t you?’ Bernie warns.

‘I always do,’ Serena says innocently, swiping a glass of champagne and beginning her circuit of the room.

Bernie takes a glass too, slips away to the edge of the room and keeps pace with Serena as she charms witches and wizards alike, as effortless in French as in English. She can’t help thinking back to the Ministry’s Yule ball, to watching Serena on Edward’s arm, to almost kissing her in the bathroom.

 _Tonight I can,_ she thinks with a smile, just as Serena looks over and catches her eye. _Tonight I get to go home with her._

Serena excuses herself from her conversation, walks over and stands close enough that their arms just touch.

‘Enjoying yourself?’ Bernie asks, replacing her empty glass with a fresh one from a passing waiter.

‘Much more now,’ Serena smiles, leaning into Bernie and tapping their glasses together. ‘Would you look at that?’ she says, nodding to where Ric and Françoise are stood together, deep in conversation, heads bowed close to hear each other over the noise of the room.

‘Nice to see romance blossoming,’ Essie says, sidling over and following their gazes.

‘Indeed,’ Serena murmurs. She glances at Bernie, who has to look away because of the intensity in her eyes.

Unlike in the office earlier Serena sees Essie looking between them with a knowing smile, blushes slightly but can’t help smiling in return.

Later, when the guests have gone and there are just a few members of the embassy staff left, Bernie slumps in a chair with a tumbler of Firewhisky, watches as Serena sits beside Ric at the bar with the end of a glass of wine. She can’t hear what they’re saying but it’s clear that Serena is teasing him about Françoise. And then Serena looks around and meets her eye, looks a little coy and blushes, and Bernie wonders exactly what she’s telling Ric.

Walking down the corridor to the fireplace, Serena tangles their fingers together, leans her head on Bernie’s shoulder.

‘Ric and I worked together for a few years,’ she says softly. ‘When I was at the Ministry here, and he first arrived as ambassador. I pretended I was dating him once, when Edward turned up on our anniversary and tried to woo me back with flowers.’

‘Idiot,’ Bernie mutters, with feeling. ‘You, uh, you never considered actually dating him?’

‘As I’ve told him, it would never have worked between us. He and Françoise, however.’

‘Have you been meddling?’

‘Just giving him a nudge, encouraging him to seize the day. Carpe diem and all that.’

They’re in front of the fireplace now, and Bernie holds out the pot of Floo powder to Serena. Instead of reaching into it, though, she reaches for Bernie, fingers curling around her jawline.

‘Is that what you’re doing now – seizing the day?’

‘Mm,’ Serena agrees, thumb stroking across Bernie’s cheek. ‘He thinks it’s brilliant.’

‘What?’

‘You and me. Us.’

‘He doesn’t know me,’ Bernie frowns.

‘He knows _of_ you. Quite the reputation you’ve got, darling.’

Bernie can’t help smiling a little smugly at that. Well, that and the look in Serena’s eye: admiration and fondness and want.

Someone behind them clears their throat. Bernie starts but Serena’s hand lingers, and when she does move it’s only to lower it to Bernie’s shoulder.

‘Goodnight, ladies,’ Ric says kindly.

‘Night Ric,’ Serena replies, hand resting on Bernie’s shoulder a moment longer before she takes a pinch of Floo powder and steps into the fire.

Bernie’s barely out of the flames when Serena draws her close by her belt loops and kisses her, marshals her tired muscles and startled mind to slip an arm around her waist and kiss her back.

‘Sorry,’ Serena says, breathless, when they part.

‘Are you kidding?’ Bernie smiles. ‘I’ve been wanting to do that all day.’

As if to prove her point she kisses Serena again, softly at first, then traces Serena’s lips with her tongue, moans when Serena instantly opens her mouth to her, when Serena’s hand slides into her hair to hold her close.

‘Bed?’ Serena murmurs when they part, foreheads touching.

‘We have to be up early,’ Bernie says reluctantly, shaking her head.

Serena pouts, and Bernie can’t keep herself from kissing her again.

‘I want to be able to take my time,’ she says softly. ‘And I would rather like to be able to look your daughter in the eye the first time I meet her. Soon, though,’ she promises.

Serena sighs, smiles ruefully and steps away, squeezing Bernie’s fingers before she lets go. ‘Soon,’ she echoes, and Bernie nods.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My version of Beauxbatons, especially the dome, is (loosely) inspired by [Vaux-le-Vicomte](http://www.vaux-le-vicomte.com/en/decouvrir/the-chateau/).

Bernie is amazed to find that she’s up before Serena, sets coffee and porridge on the stove, yawns and rubs the sleep from her eyes as they both heat up. When she’s poured the coffee and spooned the porridge into bowls and Serena still hasn’t appeared she pads back upstairs and knocks lightly on her bedroom door.

‘Serena?’

She opens the door to find Serena standing in just a towel, staring forlornly at her wardrobe. Bernie gazes for a moment at the pale lengths of leg, the shoulders peppered with freckles and faded scars, then looks at the selection of robes lying, discarded, on the bed.

‘I don’t know what to wear,’ Serena frets.

Bernie walks up behind her, stands close but doesn’t touch. ‘You look beautiful in everything.’

‘Thank you,’ Serena says with a wry laugh, but Bernie can hear her nerves.

‘What is it you’re worried about?’ she asks gently. ‘Seeing Ellie, or your old teachers?’

‘Both,’ Serena admits in a whisper.

‘Would you like me to help you choose?’

Serena nods, still not turning around.

‘Ok.’ Bernie reaches past her, flicks through the hanging robes. ‘The Beauxbatons uniform is pale blue, right?’

Serena nods again.

‘So how about this?’ she asks, taking out a set of robes in black and rich cobalt, trimmed with sky blue. ‘Sophisticated but with a nod to your alma mater. And,’ she adds, lower now, ‘I’ve always thought you looked particularly gorgeous in blue.’

‘Really?’ Serena asks, finally looking at her.

‘Really,’ Bernie nods and smiles. ‘Now, get dressed and then come down for something to eat before we have to go.’

Bernie’s just reheating Serena’s breakfast when she walks into the kitchen, still looking anxious until Bernie smiles at her.

‘Beautiful.’

‘Thank you,’ Serena smiles, fingers brushing Bernie’s shoulders as she passes her.

‘Should I, uh, should I change?’ Bernie asks hesitantly, looking down at her usual outfit of white shirt and black jeans under black robes. ‘Feel a bit scruffy next to you.’

‘You look perfect just as you are, darling.’

‘I just don’t want to embarrass you, not in front of Ellie,’ Bernie rambles on, ignoring her.

‘Bernie,’ Serena says firmly, reaching for her hand.

‘Hm?’ Bernie looks up at her, eyes wide beneath her fringe.

‘You’re perfect,’ Serena repeats, thumb slipping under Bernie’s fingers to grip gently. ‘Just perfect.’

‘Ok,’ Bernie murmurs, with a tiny smile.

*

They appear just outside a set of tall iron gates, surrounded by snow-capped mountains, Bernie’s arm safely linked with Serena’s so they could Side-Along.

‘Wow,’ Bernie breathes, gazing around them. ‘And I thought Hogwarts was impressive.’

‘Serena, ma chère.’

Bernie turns to see a tall, blonde witch in stylish black and violet robes standing on the gravel driveway.

‘Madame Furneaux,’ Serena smiles, gripping at Bernie’s elbow when she starts to move away.

‘Oh, Amélie please, my dear,’ she says in French, with a smile. ‘It’s over thirty years since I was your teacher, I think we can dispense with titles don’t you?’

‘Yes, yes, of course,’ Serena replies.

When she strides forward Bernie does slip free, walks beside her with one hand almost on the small of her back.

‘It’s good to see you, Serena,’ Amélie smiles, leaning forward to kiss Serena’s cheeks.

‘And you, Amélie. This is my colleague, Bernie Wolfe.’

‘A pleasure to meet you,’ Amélie says in lightly accented English, shaking Bernie’s hand and then kissing her cheeks.

‘Oh please, no need for English on my account,’ Bernie says, smiling when Serena looks at her in surprise. ‘What?’ she asks as they follow Amélie towards the chateau.

‘You didn’t think to mention that you speak French?’ Serena hisses.

‘I thought it would be obvious,’ Bernie shrugs. ‘I assumed that was one of the reasons Hanssen sent me.’

The corridors are quiet, all the students already in their first lesson, and they don’t meet anyone on their way to the Headmistress’s office. There’s already a pot of tea and a plate of madeleines waiting on the desk, and while it makes Serena smile it also reminds her of her school days, of weekly meetings with Madame Furneaux when she was Head Girl. For a moment she’s back there again, an eighteen year old juggling her duties with schoolwork, petrified she wouldn’t live up to the expectations of either her mother or the teacher she idolised. And then Bernie’s knee presses against hers under the desk, and Serena blinks and remembers that all that was decades ago, that she’s a capable and successful witch now.

‘Dumbledore writes that things are not so good,’ Amélie begins, pouring the tea and gesturing to the madeleines; Serena smiles as Bernie eagerly takes one. ‘What can you tell me?’

Just like with Ric, Serena describes the state of Wizarding Britain and answers Amélie’s questions, Bernie adding her own comments where she thinks they’ll be useful.

‘You know about Edward, of course,’ she says when they reach Parasite, and Amélie nods. ‘How, uh, how’s Ellie been?’

‘I’m keeping an eye on her, but she’s alright.’ Amélie glances at her watch. ‘I can send for her, if you like?’

‘Oh no, no, don’t disturb her in lessons. I’ll see her at lunch, and I think she has a free this afternoon so we can catch up then.’

Amélie nods. ‘What do you need me – us – to do?’

‘Stand by us. Offer what assistance you can, should we need it?’

‘Of course. As you know, we have a longstanding relationship with Hogwarts and I fully intend to continue that, as I’ve told Dumbledore before. None of us wish to see Dark Magic ascend. Anything we can do, you need only ask.’

‘Thank you,’ Serena smiles, and then sighs. ‘I hope it won’t come to that.’

‘So do I,’ Amélie agrees, and then smiles. ‘And how are you, my dear?’

‘Very well, thank you,’ Serena replies, fighting to keep herself from looking at Bernie.

‘I think London has agreed with you, no?’

Serena can feel Bernie’s gaze on her, Bernie’s knee pressing more firmly against hers, and feels herself blush slightly. ‘I think you might be right,’ she murmurs.

*

In the time left before lunch Serena shows Bernie around the school, leads her along endless corridors and into opulently decorated rooms, in a whisper points out what had been her usual seat in the library. And then she slips her hand into Bernie’s and tugs her around a corner, looking over her shoulder before tapping a section of the wall with her wand and grinning triumphantly when it vanishes to reveal a door. Inside is a set of stone steps and bare walls; Serena swiftly pulls Bernie inside after her and closes the door, then starts up the stairs.

‘You rebel,’ Bernie teases. ‘Surely the Head Girl shouldn’t have known about such secret passages?’

Serena laughs. ‘Surprising what you can learn while patrolling the corridors for miscreants.’

She pushes open another door and they step out, up a few more steps and onto a narrow balcony.

‘Oh,’ Bernie breathes. ‘It’s beautiful.’

They’re on top of the dome forming the roof of the entrance hall, right at the top of the chateau, looking out across the gardens to the mountains beyond.

‘Impressive, isn’t it?’ Serena agrees, slipping her arms around Bernie’s waist as the wind whips around them. ‘I brought Margeaux Delorme up here one night, thought it would be romantic to kiss her under the stars.’

‘Was it?’

‘No idea. Turned out she was afraid of heights, almost fainted on me when she saw where we were.’

‘I’m not afraid of heights,’ Bernie says, turning in Serena’s arms so her back is pressed against the balustrade. ‘And there might not be any stars, but I wouldn’t be averse to you kissing me up here.’

Serena smiles, leans closer and lightly touches her lips to Bernie’s. They feel almost burning after the frozen air and Serena moans softly, deepens the kiss before nestling into Bernie’s shoulder.

‘What happened with Margeaux?’ Bernie asks quietly, mouth an inch from Serena’s ear so she can hear her above the wind. ‘Did you ever get to kiss her?’

‘Once,’ Serena sighs wistfully. ‘Just after our last exam. And then she bolted and avoided me until we left, and I never saw her again.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be. Kissing her made me realise it wasn’t just curiosity, I really did like women too.’

‘In which case I suppose I should thank her,’ Bernie grins.

When they’re both starting to shiver from the cold and the wind, they hurry back down the stairs to try and warm up.

‘Glad we didn’t stay up there any longer,’ Bernie says as they step out into the corridor just as the bell rings above them for lunch. ‘Might have been deafened.’

Serena smiles, reaches to slip her hand into the crook of Bernie’s elbow to hold her close as floods of students exit the classrooms and propel them in the direction of the dining hall.

When they step through the doors Bernie stops dead, and Serena tugs her against the wall so they’re out of the way. She looks at the wonder on Bernie’s face and then follows her gaze around the room.

‘It’s magnificent,’ Bernie breathes.

‘Yes,’ Serena agrees, seeing it through Bernie’s eyes and realising that she got so used to seeing this every day that she takes it for granted. ‘Yes, it is.’

They eat at the round staff table, Serena beside Madame Furneaux at the headmistress’ insistence, an ancient wizard who Serena tells her in an undertone was old when he taught _her_ astronomy on Bernie’s other side.

Everything here is so beautiful that Bernie keeps getting distracted – by the singing wood nymphs, the murals on the walls, the glorious ceiling with its ever shifting canopy of leaves dappling and softening the light – and it’s five whole minutes before she realises she hasn’t put any food on her delicate porcelain plate yet. The food is beautiful too – glorious, delicious – and Bernie tries to retain a modicum of dignity as she tucks in – for Serena’s sake.

Serena, in contrast, has barely eaten, is spending most of her time moving morsels of food around her plate. Bernie watches her out of the corner of her eye, sees her cutlery shaking slightly, sees her gaze keep straying to where Ellie is sitting. Ellie, who looked at them once – a glare, really – when she came into the hall with her friends and promptly sat with her back to the staff table.

Bernie can’t talk to her about this, can’t attempt to assuage her anxiety – this isn’t the place, even if Bernie were good at feelings and words. So instead she reaches for a piece of some fancy chocolate dessert and slides it onto Serena’s plate, and under the table presses her knee against Serena’s. Gazes at her and offers a smile when Serena looks around and meets her eye. Looks pointedly at the dessert with raised eyebrows until Serena rolls her eyes and carves off a corner with her fork.

‘Good?’ she asks.

‘Mm,’ Serena replies with a smile.

Bernie reaches across with her own fork but Serena parries her and tugs the plate out of her reach.

‘Get your own,’ she growls, but there’s a spark of mirth in her eyes.

Bernie does as she’s told, smiling to herself a little smugly.

 _It’s very good,_ she thinks as she eats her own in three bites and reaches for a miniature éclair, watching from beneath her fringe as Serena savours every tiny mouthful.

*

Bernie waits with Serena in the entrance hall, watches as she fidgets with her hands, her robes, her hair, her necklace, wishes she felt brave enough to reach out and lace their fingers but makes do with looking at her steadily, hiding her own anxiety and trying to radiate reassurance. She sees Ellie approach out of the corner of her eye, sees Serena’s breath hitch and knows she’s seen her too.

‘Who’s that, your guard dog?’ Ellie asks disparagingly.

‘My colleague,’ Serena corrects mildly, but Bernie can hear the tension in her voice, can see it in the stiffening of her spine and shoulders.

‘Bernie Wolfe,’ Bernie smiles, holding out her hand.

‘Manners, Elinor,’ Serena scolds lightly when Ellie hesitates.

‘Nice to meet you,’ Bernie says when Ellie finally shakes her hand. ‘I’ll see you later, Serena,’ she adds, catching her eye and waiting for Serena to offer her a tiny smile before she turns and heads for the main door.

They agreed over lunch that Bernie would wander the gardens while Serena caught up with Ellie; she has no doubt that Serena is safe here, and she’s been spending far too long cooped up in offices recently and is itching to move, even if it is freezing.

‘Are you too important to travel alone now?’ she hears Ellie ask as she walks away. ‘Or too scared? I didn’t think you were scared of anything, mum.’

 _It could be a statement of disbelief,_ Bernie thinks. _Surprise at a parent’s humanity._ But Ellie manages to sneer and Bernie clenches her fists tight inside the sleeves of her robes, has to stop herself turning and striding back to give Ellie a piece of her mind.

‘She’s my colleague,’ Serena repeats calmly, clearly accustomed to her daughter. ‘And my friend.’

Serena’s breath hitches a little on the word ‘friend’ but she doesn’t elaborate, and while Bernie feels a tiny pang of disappointment she’s mostly glad of it because she doesn’t really want to add another element to an already strained meeting.

Bernie walks on across the black and white tiles, hears their two sets of footsteps retreat in the other direction as she reaches one hand out to push the door open, taking in a deep breath of cold, clear mountain air before stepping outside.

She’s admiring a magnificent fountain, the water flowing despite the freezing air, when she hears quiet footsteps crunching up the gravel path towards her.

‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’

Bernie turns to see a tall, slim witch with dark hair, dressed in sensible and slightly mudstained robes.

‘Yes,’ she agrees.

‘It’s named for the Flamels, Nicholas and Perenelle. He–’

‘Created the Philosopher’s Stone,’ Bernie interrupts with a smile. ‘Yes, I know who he is.’

The witch takes a step closer, holds out her hand. ‘Alex.’

‘Bernie,’ Bernie says, shaking it and looking her up and down. ‘Let me guess, care of magical creatures?’

‘The stains give it away, don’t they?’ Alex laughs. ‘You’re here with Ms Campbell, right?’

Bernie inclines her head, tries not to smile too much at the thought of Serena. ‘Thought I’d take a look at the renowned gardens of Beauxbatons while I had the chance.’

‘I could show you around, if you like?’ Alex offers.

‘I wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble.’

‘No trouble,’ she insists.

‘Well, if you’re sure then that would be very nice, thank you.’

What Bernie doesn’t realise is that at that precise moment Serena happens to glance out of the window, happens to catch sight of Alex gesturing towards the gardens and Bernie laughing.

‘Who’s that?’ she asks Ellie casually.

Ellie cranes her neck and squints to see. ‘Mademoiselle Dawson,’ she replies. ‘Rumour has it she used to go out with Genevieve Labelle. You know, Mum,’ she adds, rolling her eyes at Serena’s blank expression. ‘Chaser on the French Quidditch team?’

‘Right,’ Serena says, casting one more glance out of the window just in time to see Mademoiselle Dawson’s fingers brush Bernie’s arm.

It’s an image she can’t shake for the rest of their conversation, even as she forces herself to concentrate on her daughter.

‘Why couldn’t you just tell me, Mum? I’m always the last person to know what’s going on in your life.’

‘Ellie, it was a secret assignment – emphasis on the _secret_. Even most of my colleagues didn’t know.’

They argue, back and forth, Serena yet again lamenting how much Ellie is like both herself and her mother, until finally Ellie relents. Serena isn’t sure what it is that softens her, doesn’t really care. She’s just glad Ellie is learning to temper her stubbornness and hatred of losing arguments, glad not to be leaving her with anger between them. They move on to other topics, Ellie updating her mother on the latest school gossip, the latest spells she’s learning, how Quidditch practices have been going.

Serena finds her mind drifting to Bernie again: she must have been on the Quidditch team, surely? Which leads her to think about Mademoiselle Dawson and her professional-Quidditch-playing ex. About Bernie obviously enjoying Mademoiselle Dawson’s company in the grounds. The beautiful, frosty, romantic grounds.

She’s still thinking about them when the bell goes for afternoon lessons and she follows Ellie out into the corridor, hugs her goodbye and fights her way down through the tide of students to wait for Bernie in the entrance hall. She comes in side by side with Mademoiselle Dawson, still deep in lively conversation, her cheeks pink from the cold, and Serena feels jealousy flare in her belly. Particularly when the young, attractive witch brushes kisses to Bernie’s cheeks before heading back outside.

Serena looks away, then, fixes her gaze firmly on the magnificent sweeping staircase, misses the way Bernie’s smile widens when she sees her, the way the corners of her eyes crinkle and her shoulders drop.

‘Everything alright?’ she asks softly, standing beside her.

‘What? Oh yes, yes. You?’

‘Mm, I just had a very informative tour of the gardens.’

‘How nice,’ Serena mutters. ‘Shall we head off? I want to drop into the embassy and see if there’s been any post.’

‘Ready whenever you are,’ Bernie frowns as Serena begins to walk towards the Headmistress’ office.

They say their goodbyes, Serena still not looking at Bernie and Bernie still gazing at her in confusion, before Amélie leads them to her fireplace and holds out a jar of Floo powder. Serena takes a pinch and throws it into the flames before Bernie can object, has vanished in a whoosh of emerald before she has time to blink.

‘Take care of her?’ Amélie says as Bernie too reaches into the jar.

‘It’s my job,’ Bernie replies tightly.

‘That is not what I meant.’ Bernie looks at her sharply, but Amélie just smiles. ‘Take care of her,’ she repeats.

‘I will,’ Bernie promises, before stepping into the fire.

When she arrives at the embassy Serena has already disappeared to check her in tray, the office door firmly closed behind her.

‘She alright?’ Essie asks quietly, seeing Bernie’s confused expression.

‘I– I have no idea,’ Bernie sighs.

She doesn’t even notice that Essie has gone until she’s back and holding out a mug of coffee, takes a sip and then splutters and raises her eyebrows.

‘You looked like you needed something a bit stronger,’ Essie says conspiratorially. ‘Things not go smoothly with Madame Furneaux?’

‘No, everything was fine.’

‘Maybe it was seeing her daughter? I mean, things can’t be easy after what happened with Edward, right?’

‘Maybe,’ Bernie frowns, and sighs again. ‘Do you ever get the feeling you’ve done something wrong without even realising it?’

‘Oh, I’ve definitely been there,’ Essie says sympathetically.

And then they both look up sharply at the sound of Serena’s office door opening, and she comes sweeping past in a swirl of robes.

‘Don’t let me disturb you,’ she says tightly, not stopping but continuing towards the fireplace.

Bernie exchanges a glance with Essie, who mouths, ‘Talk to her,’ as Bernie hurriedly sets down her mug and chases after her.

Again Serena steps into the fire ahead of Bernie; this time she steps out just in time to see Serena’s robes disappearing out of the room, hears the sound of a door closing behind her. She sits heavily, racks her mind as to what she might have inadvertently done to upset Serena.

 _Maybe Essie was right,_ she thinks. _Maybe it was Ellie, not me at all._

But then she thinks about how Serena seems unable to look at her, how short she’s been with her.

 _No, definitely me,_ she thinks glumly. _Excellent work, Wolfe, cocking things up again._

She stands up, takes a deep, steeling breath and then follows Serena, knocks on her study door and lets herself in without waiting for a response.

‘Mind telling me what I’ve done to upset you so much?’ she asks quietly.

‘What makes you think you’ve upset me?’ Serena asks harshly.

‘Well for starters you can’t even look at me.’

Bernie hears Serena’s sharp exhale, and then she turns and fixes Bernie with a glare.

‘There, is that better?’

‘Please just tell me, Serena.’

‘You’ve done nothing wrong,’ Serena snaps, looking back at the parchment on the desk.

‘Ok,’ Bernie murmurs, turning to leave.

Serena almost calls out, almost tells her to stay but she can’t. Instead she listens as Bernie slowly closes the door behind her, as she walks away. Because if she asks, she might get an answer she doesn’t want to hear. She tries to focus on the letters she’s received, on slotting each meeting into a viable schedule, but her mind keeps wandering. Eventually, with a growl of frustration, she slams down her quill, splattering ink across the desk and its contents, pushes her chair back with an angry screech and marches to find Bernie.

She isn’t in the sitting room, or the kitchen, and Serena knows she didn’t hear her go upstairs.

 _She’s gone,_ she thinks, panicking. _Stupid, stupid woman._

But then she feels a draft, follows it to find the back door open a crack, pushes it further to reveal Bernie standing outside in the cold, a cigarette between her fingers, neck craned to look up at the dark sky spattered with stars. Serena moves to stand beside her, holds out her hand; Bernie wordlessly passes over the cigarette and Serena takes a drag before giving it back to her.

‘Did you, uh, did you enjoy your tour of the gardens?’ she makes herself ask.

‘They’re certainly impressive,’ Bernie answers, carefully studying Serena’s face. ‘And the company was pleasant enough.’

‘Right,’ Serena murmurs. ‘Attractive woman, that Mademoiselle Dawson,’ she adds, her stomach churning.

‘Is she? I hadn’t noticed.’

‘The two of you looked to be getting on like a house on fire,’ she continues, ignoring Bernie’s response.

‘I’d rather have had you showing me around.’

‘And of course she– what?’

‘I said I’d rather have had you showing me around,’ Bernie repeats.

‘You– you would?’ Serena asks, finally meeting Bernie’s eye.

‘Of course,’ Bernie says simply. ‘Is that what this is all about?’

Serena blushes and looks away, one hand fiddling with the collar of her robes.

‘Serena?’

‘I– I may have got a little jealous, alright,’ she mutters.

‘Really no need,’ Bernie says, almost laughing with relief.

‘May I remind you that I spent most of my marriage with Edward cheating on me?’ she says, a little harsher than she intended.

‘I know, I know,’ Bernie soothes. ‘Something I will never understand. How could anyone ever look at another woman when they have you?’

Serena looks up again, feels her chest constrict tightly at the expression on Bernie’s face, the adoration in her eyes. ‘I’ve been an idiot, haven’t I?’ she sighs.

‘No,’ Bernie smiles softly. ‘Old habits are hard to shake. But I– oh, Serena,’ she sighs. ‘I want you so much there isn’t room for anyone else in my heart.’

‘Oh,’ Serena breathes, blinking away tears. She reaches out a trembling hand to Bernie, sighs when she takes it and pulls her closer, cigarette discarded so she can wrap both arms tightly around her.

‘I was jealous of Colette, when we arrived,’ Bernie admits quietly.

‘What?’ Serena asks, pulling away to meet Bernie's eye.

‘Well I'd buggered everything up, hadn't I, and there the two of you were, merrily flirting away.’

‘Surely it hasn't escaped your notice that I'm like that with pretty much everyone?’ Serena teases.

‘I know,’ Bernie says quietly, looking away to the floor and hiding behind her fringe as her cheeks pink slightly. ‘And I don’t want you to change, I’d never ask you to change. I just thought you’d never be like that with me again.’

‘Oh, darling,’ Serena murmurs, resting her head on Bernie’s shoulder and smoothing one palm up and down her spine. ‘I don’t think I could stop, even if I wanted to.’


	13. Chapter 13

The rest of the week is filled with endless meetings – two, three or even four each day. Bernie’s certain she’s never used so much Floo powder or Apparated so much in such a short space of time; it’s become so routine she hardly notices the discomfort of either any more.

Each morning she gets to kiss Serena, has to pinch herself every time because how can this really be happening, how can she have got so lucky – especially after what she did, what she said?

Each day she sits beside Serena, or opposite her, gets a front row seat to watch and listen as she charms witches and wizards alike, bending them to her will as if by magic. Bernie knows she’s prepared meticulously for every one of these meetings, sits with her each evening with tea or wine as she does so, yet she makes it look effortless – and Bernie only admires her more for it.

And afterwards – after Bernie has removed the parchment from her hands and coaxed her to stop for the night – they curl close in front of the fire, both exhausted but neither wanting to go to bed just yet. Curl close and kiss until Bernie yawns and draws away, the apology in her eyes – that she doesn’t want to rush this, doesn’t want to risk destroying them by rushing – dying before it can reach her lips.

‘It’s alright,’ Serena murmurs every night, hand cupping Bernie’s cheek, pecking her lips once more before standing, and tugging Bernie upright with her. They head upstairs together, fingers lingering until the moment they part.

*

They’re both tired – so very tired – from the travelling and persuading and the endless talk of fear and war. So Bernie persuades Serena to have an evening off, picks up steaks before they head home, confiscates all Serena’s work and sends her upstairs to have a bath while she makes dinner. They eat by candlelight, eyes catching and feet touching, retire to the sofa and sit pressed together until eventually Serena has slid so her head is in Bernie’s lap, her hand wrapped around Bernie’s knee, Bernie’s fingers carding through her hair.

Serena wakes with a start, head jerking hard enough to wake Bernie too. The fire has died down and weak sunlight is streaming through the windows. Serena blinks in confusion, hears Bernie yawn as she rubs at her eyes and tries to focus on the clock on the mantelpiece.

‘Bugger,’ she mutters, trying to sit up and wincing.

‘Why don’t you just stay there a moment?’ Bernie suggests groggily, gently pushing her back down again.

‘We’ll be late,’ Serena protests.

‘They can wait,’ Bernie says firmly. ‘They can hardly start without us, can they?’

Serena manages to lie still for a full two minutes before she starts fidgeting, and eventually Bernie huffs good naturedly and moves her arm to the back of the sofa so she can push herself upright.

‘Careful,’ she warns as Serena’s hand presses hard into her thigh. ‘That’s me you’re using as leverage.’

‘Sorry, darling,’ Serena winces.

‘It‘s fine,’ Bernie smiles. ‘Big macho Auror, remember? I can take it.’

Her smile widens when Serena leans close enough to kiss her, murmuring, ‘Good morning,’ against her lips.

‘Morning,’ Bernie replies, grimacing as she tries to move.

‘I’ll dig out some pain relief,’ Serena promises, stretching a little before standing and offering a hand to Bernie, who shakes her head and grips the edge of the sofa cushion.

‘You go and get ready, I’ll creak up in a minute.’

It’s a slow day. They’re both still tired, both stiff from a night spent in inadvisable positions on the sofa. Despite the potion she gratefully accepted from Serena, despite how well she’s healed, Bernie’s back complains with every step, and she can feel the pain pressing in around the edges of her mind until she finds it hard to concentrate on what Serena’s saying. She even drifts off in one meeting, is certain she’d only closed her eyes to blink but opens them again with Serena’s hand light on her knee beneath the table to find both Serena and the wizard ( _Laurien? Lionel? Lucien?_ ) looking at her expectantly. Serena covers for her seamlessly, is speaking again before Bernie even has the chance to open her mouth, and she stifles a yawn, pinches her arm hard to wake herself up and joins the conversation as soon as she works out what they’re talking about. Blushing furiously she mutters an apology to Serena as soon as they leave, but Serena brushes it off with a fond smile and a trail of her fingers along Bernie’s arm, promises her a strong coffee before the next meeting and pushes a sweet almond croissant into her hand too.

*

It’s dark by the time they head to their final meeting of the day. Bernie had been suspicious about this one from the moment Serena received the owl: late, at the wizard’s house in the middle of a forest – a house not connected to the Floo network meaning they’d have to Apparate to the nearest landmark and walk the rest of the way.

‘It’s fine,’ Serena had reassured her. ‘He’s always been a bit of an odd one, Jerome Chevalier. Quite the recluse.’

‘So why are we meeting with him?’ Bernie had frowned.

‘He used to work for the French Ministry, in the department equivalent to the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures,’ Serena had explained. ‘He was instrumental in nurturing relationships and forging alliances with a number of species, most notably Centaurs, Goblins, Giants and Merpeople. He’s trusted and respected by them, built up quite a network of communications that, to the best of my knowledge, he retained when he retired. We know Voldemort is looking at least to the Giants, so cross-species alliances might prove vital.’

Trusting Serena’s judgement rather than her own instincts, Bernie had relented. So now here they are, wand tips lighting their path as they pick their way through the dark, dense forest.

Bernie is moving slower than usual. The potion Serena gave her has been gradually wearing off; when she stood up at the end of their previous meeting her back twinged so badly she almost gasped, had to grasp the arm of her chair and shove herself upright with gritted teeth. Now she's trailing two strides behind Serena, senses dulled by the pain radiating from the still tender spot on her spine. Her vision is starting to blur around the edges, her ears starting to fill with the fizzing rush of blood until she can barely hear the crunch of leaves beneath her feet. She hopes desperately that this meeting will be quick and easy, that she'll be able to get through it and get Serena home before her whole back seizes up.

She doesn’t notice that Serena has stopped until she almost walks into her.

‘Did you hear something?’ she whispers, and Bernie tries to listen past the fuzziness, looks around them as sharply as her sore neck and tired eyes will allow.

She sees him step out from behind a tree just in time to shove Serena behind her, ignoring the spasm in her back. Just in time to raise her wand and disarm him before stunning him, the scarlet beam striking him in the centre of his chest. Just in time to see another black clad figure step out from behind another tree and point their wand at her.

And then all there is is a searing pain in her chest, and then darkness.

*

In the split second when Bernie crumples to the ground in front of her Serena freezes. And then she’s filled with rage because _how dare they_ hurt Bernie, _her_ Bernie? As the cloaked figure approaches another step and raises their wand again, Serena stands tall over Bernie’s prone form, raises her own wand and flicks it. The power surging through her is like nothing she’s ever felt before. She disarms the Death Eater, sending their wand soaring deep into the undergrowth and blasting them back into a tree trunk. Disarms the next before they have chance to do anything. Draws on everything Raf taught her, everything Professor Morel taught her all those years ago, to duel with the third. She knows she’s no match for them, not really. Not rusty as she is, not when the first is already standing again and summoning their wand back to their hand. Not when she can’t move from this spot even though she knows Bernie would yell at her to get away, to leave her and save herself.

All her attention is focused on them. She doesn’t notice Bernie stirring at her feet, stretching until her fingertips touch the smooth wood of her wand and coax it close enough to grasp. Doesn’t notice Bernie raising one trembling hand just off the ground to point her wand and mutter, ‘Stupefy,’ at the same instant as she does.

The Death Eater falls to the ground, motionless, and Serena freezes again. Bernie marshals her last dregs of energy to wordlessly hex the remaining two and then flops back to the leaf mould, chest heaving and back screaming.

It isn’t until the first Death Eater begins to stir that Serena finds she can move again, fear coursing through her. She crouches down, drags Bernie deeper into the forest, muttering an apology as she whimpers. She can hear footsteps and crashes through the undergrowth, stops in a hollow and silently waves her wand in intricate patterns to raise wards and shields around them and then lies behind Bernie, curling around her to wait.

It seems like an age. Serena can feel Bernie shivering, presses even closer and wraps one arm around her waist to hold her tight, presses her hand against her sternum to feel the pounding of her heart. She hears the footsteps get closer, sees a shadow pass just feet from them. Inexplicably she finds herself screwing her eyes shut and praying: inexplicable because she doesn’t believe in anything worth praying to, and even if she did she knows her charms and wards are strong, knows they’re invisible. She just couldn’t bear to lose Bernie, she admits to herself, shaking fingers rubbing soothing circles on Bernie’s chest as her breath hitches and she whimpers softly in pain.

And still they’re searching. So Serena points her wand well away from them and there’s a crack that sounds like Disapparition.

‘Good idea,’ Bernie croaks, as the rustles and crashes head in that direction, as they hear curses and recriminations and then three more cracks.

‘Shh,’ Serena murmurs. She raises her head, listens carefully but all she can hear is the soughing of the breeze and the rattle of branches.

Only when she’s certain the coast is clear does she let out a breath of relief, move and light her wand so she can look at Bernie, can study her tight frame and wide eyes and pained grimace.

‘Must have landed on a tree root,’ she mutters, staring up at the stars twinkling through bare, skeletal branches.

‘Are you ok to Apparate?’

‘I,’ Bernie breathes. ‘I don’t–’

‘Give me your hand,’ Serena says softly, and Bernie grips tight.

When they land heavily Bernie’s chest feels like it’s been crushed. She gasps for breath, swallows hard and tries not to throw up, can’t remember the last time Apparition made her feel this terrible. And then she feels Serena’s arm around her waist, opens her eyes to see Serena gazing at her.

‘Can you walk?’

Bernie tries to get up, manages it with Serena’s help, leans heavily against her and slowly limps inside.

‘Upstairs,’ Serena orders tightly, lets her go and watches as she grips the banister and begins to haul herself up.

‘What about you?’ Bernie asks, stopping but not turning to her.

‘I’ll be there in a moment,’ Serena promises.

She watches until Bernie has reached the top of the stairs then goes into her study, dashes off notes to Hanssen and Ric, opens the back door and softly calls to her owl, ties the scrolls to her leg and sends her off into the night. She waits a moment, scanning the dark vineyards and starry sky and listening, but there’s nothing out of place, nothing but the usual night time shapes and sounds. So she closes and bolts the door, studies her potion cabinet and gathers everything she can think of that might ease Bernie’s pain before following her upstairs.

Bernie’s sitting on her bed, hands loosely gripping the edge of the mattress, spine ramrod straight and shoulders tense, eyes shut, clearly concentrating on breathing in a way that doesn’t hurt any more than is unavoidable.

‘I’m sorry,’ Serena murmurs, setting the bottles down on the bedside table and perching beside her.

‘For what?’ Bernie frowns, opening her eyes.

‘I should have listened to you,’ Serena explains, gaze fixed on her hands as she twists them in her lap. ‘You were suspicious and I brushed you off.’

‘This isn’t your fault, Serena,’ Bernie says softly, hesitantly reaching to cover Serena’s hands with hers. ‘If anything it’s mine. I wasn’t at my best today, and if I had been then I would’ve been able to do my job properly, protect you properly.’

Serena turns her hand so she can slip her fingers between Bernie’s, looks at her to find her eyes filled with guilt and remorse.

‘This is not your fault.’

‘But I–’

‘No,’ Serena says firmly, and then sighs. ‘We’re in the middle of a war, and I spied on the enemy. We’re lucky nothing has happened until now. And we’re both here, we’re both alive. I’m ok, you’re ok, the world can go round.’ She smiles, small and sad but still a smile, and Bernie manages to return it. ‘Now,’ she says, nodding towards the bedside table. ‘Get that down you, and get some rest.’

‘Yes ma’am,’ Bernie smiles. She winces as she reaches for the three bottles, takes a swig from each and then, once Serena has stood up, waves her wand to remove her boots and outer robes so she doesn’t have to bend, and slowly, carefully settles herself into bed, wand tucked safely in its customary place under her pillow.

‘Goodnight, then,’ Serena says softly, starting for the door. But she only makes it a few steps before she turns and her gaze meets Bernie’s again, her hands gripping each other tightly. ‘I could have lost you,’ she whispers.

‘You didn’t. I’m right here, Serena.’

Serena nods, draws a shaky breath and blinks away tears.

‘I’m right here,’ Bernie repeats, holding out her hand.

Serena hesitates a moment, then swiftly crosses the room again to take it.

‘Stay?’ Bernie asks, gazing up from beneath her fringe. ‘Please, Serena?’

Serena lets out a shuddering sigh and nods, drops Bernie’s hand so she can slip into the bed beside her, shoving her wand under the pillow. ‘Can– can I hold you?’ she asks nervously.

Bernie doesn’t reply but shifts closer to Serena and settles into her side, draping one arm over her stomach. Serena wraps her arm around Bernie’s shoulders, finds her hand and tangles their fingers, presses a kiss to the top of her head and buries her nose in her hair, breathing in the smell of her shampoo mingled with lingering leaf mould.

Her eyes fill with tears and she tightens her grip, feels Bernie squeeze her hand in return and repeats to herself over and over, as she feels Bernie’s body soften against her, as she listens to Bernie’s breathing slow with sleep, that _she’s alright, she’s here, she’s fine._

It takes her a long time to get to sleep. Every time she closes her eyes and begins to drift she sees Bernie, a beam of red light speeding towards her chest. Sees Bernie collapse to the floor at her feet, pale and lifeless. Snaps her eyes open again and struggles to regain control of her breathing, feels Bernie’s chest rise and fall and fights to match the steady tempo.

She must have slept, eventually, because when she wakes the room is light with the dawn and Bernie has moved, has shifted away from her enough to prop herself up on one elbow and gaze at her with something akin to adoration. Serena feels herself flush a little under the scrutiny but Bernie just smiles softly and runs the backs of her fingers down Serena’s cheek.

‘This is a nice way to wake up,’ she murmurs.

Serena nods in agreement and smiles, last night momentarily forgotten. ‘Could be better, though,’ she says, eyes glinting.

‘Oh really?’

‘Mm.’ Serena reaches to tuck Bernie’s hair behind her ear, grazes her thumb across her cheekbone and gently draws her closer, until their noses touch. ‘Don’t you think?’ she breathes, before tenderly kissing her.

And then, before she can tangle her fingers in Bernie’s hair, before she can open her mouth to Bernie’s tongue, there’s a loud tapping on the window. They pull apart to find Serena’s owl staring at them, and with a quiet groan of frustration Serena gets up to let her in, untying the scroll from her leg and waiting for her to fly away again before firmly closing the window against the cold morning. She sits on the bed beside Bernie, smiles when Bernie moves closer and leans into her to read over her shoulder.

‘Serena, I wish to see both of you urgently to fully discuss the events of last night. Please come to the embassy as soon as you are able. HH.’


	14. Chapter 14

It’s a difficult, strained meeting. They sit around the table in Ric’s office, Bernie and Serena close enough that their feet touch, neither willing to not be in contact just yet, not with last night so fresh in their minds, not when they have to rehash it all over again. They’re both tired but Bernie refuses coffee because she’s already on edge, doesn’t want to be made more jittery by caffeine. Serena does accept a mug but hardly drinks any, mostly just holds it and lets the warmth comfort her.

Hanssen is tense, too – more tense, Bernie thinks, than she ever remembers seeing him; when he isn’t writing he twists his quill between his fingers, carefully lines up the corners of his parchment sheets with tiny, precise movements.

‘I thought they’d killed her,’ Serena says quietly, voice just steady. She can’t stop herself reaching out, one warm hand gripping Bernie’s arm.

After a heartbeat Bernie covers it with her own, rubs her thumb over Serena’s, sees but ignores the way both Hanssen and Ric’s eyes follow the movement and linger there. She know Serena means it as a reassurance, knows that she does too, but the brush of skin on skin makes her breath catch and her blood fizz, makes her certain she can feel every nerve ending in her hand. She glances at Serena from under her fringe and sees the slightest blush on her cheeks, knows she feels it too and looks away before Serena can meet her eye.

‘Jerome?’ Serena asks quietly.

‘He’s safe,’ Ric reassures her. ‘Wasn’t even home. Apparently he’s been spending a lot of time with the centaurs recently. We think they came looking for him, to make use of the same communication network you wanted to discuss with him, and have been intercepting his post. Finding you was just an added bonus.’

‘It does, however, mean they are now aware of your presence in France. I want you to conduct as many meetings as possible at the embassy,’ Hanssen says firmly. ‘And I will arrange for you to have a member of French security with you for any that cannot take place here, especially if they are in secluded locations.’

He looks at Bernie as if waiting for her to protest but she says nothing, just inclines her head and bites her lip and stares down at the table.

‘It wasn’t Bernie’s fault,’ Serena says.

‘No, I don’t believe it was,’ Hanssen agrees. ‘However it demonstrates that you remain a target, and as such require additional protection to ensure your safety – both of you. Mr Griffin, if you could liaise with the relevant authorities?’

‘Of course.’

‘And you are both to go home,’ Hanssen adds firmly. ‘I shall deal with what I can of today’s schedule myself, and rearrange the rest.’

Serena opens her mouth to complain, but Hanssen holds up one hand and stops her.

‘One or both of you could have been captured or killed last night. I believe that is an acceptable justification for a day off.’

‘We’d better,’ Bernie says drily when Serena is still unwilling. ‘This could be the only holiday he gives us all year.’

‘Quite,’ Hanssen says with a gentle smile. ‘Not an opportunity to be wasted.’

*

‘Serena, you’re shaking,’ Bernie says as they walk down the corridor, close enough that their arms brush from shoulder to elbow.

‘Am I?’ Serena frowns, holding one hand out in front of her. ‘Oh yes, so I am.’

‘Come on, let’s get you home and into bed.’

‘Are you propositioning me, Ms Wolfe?’ Serena smirks, but her voice is trembling too.

‘If that’s what it’ll take to get you to lie down,’ Bernie teases.

She Floos back first, catches Serena around her waist when she stumbles stepping out of the fireplace.

‘I’ve got you,’ she murmurs, as Serena presses her face into the crook of Bernie’s neck. ‘I’ve got you.’

And then, all of a sudden, both of their stomachs growl and, stretched too thin after all that’s happened, they both burst out laughing.

‘When did we last eat?’ Bernie asks when she gets her breath back.

‘Yesterday – lunchtime?’ Serena frowns. ‘We were going to have dinner when we got back, weren’t we?’

Bernie nods, steers Serena into the kitchen and gently pushes her into a chair before starting on omelettes, cracking eggs into a bowl and then pouring them into a pan.

‘And then, once we’ve refuelled, will you let me take me to bed?’ Serena asks, low and sultry.

Bernie’s wand jerks, and an egg smashes on the tile floor. Serena laughs, flicks her own wand to clear it up, gazes at Bernie’s rigid spine until she turns around and then gasps at the intensity in her eyes. Serena can’t help it, stands up and walks closer until they’re toe to toe, until she’s close enough to feel Bernie’s breath warm against her cheeks, until she can see Bernie’s desire-blown pupils flick between her eyes and her lips.

She makes the decision for her, leans so their noses touch and then kisses her, only drawing away when the eggs behind Bernie start to smell cooked. And then she winks, saunters back to her seat, watches Bernie swallow hard and then shake her head sharply before returning her attention to the pan.

When Bernie sits opposite her Serena almost wishes she hadn’t said anything, hadn’t teased her like that. Because now Bernie is quiet and nervy, her eyes fixed firmly on her plate even though Serena’s certain she must be able to feel her heated gaze.

And then Bernie’s fork slips from her trembling fingers, knocks the edge of the table and clatters to the floor. She mutters an apology and scrabbles to retrieve it; when she sits up again Serena reaches to place a warm hand over hers, squeezes gently and smiles. Bernie doesn’t withdraw her hand, manages a small smile in return.

‘If you don’t want to,’ Serena begins, quiet and hesitant.

‘I do,’ Bernie interrupts her, turning her hand so they’re palm to palm and their fingers interlock. ‘I do, Serena.’

When their plates are both cleared it’s Bernie who stands and draws Serena to her. But it’s Serena whose eyes drift to Bernie’s lips, Serena who wordlessly asks permission. Serena who kisses Bernie, tender and almost chaste, until she sighs and Bernie whimpers. And then one hand is slipping around Bernie’s waist, the other tangling in her hair, and Bernie is wrapping both arms around her and pulling her closer.

They draw apart, breathless and smiling, foreheads resting together.

‘Sorry,’ Serena murmurs, though she looks and sounds anything but.

‘Don’t be.’ Bernie rubs her nose against Serena’s, softly kisses her again. ‘Now,’ she says, fingers trailing up and down Serena’s spine, ‘I believe you wanted to be taken to bed, Ms Campbell.’

‘More than anything,’ Serena whispers against Bernie’s lips. ‘For weeks, Bernie.’

‘Me too,’ Bernie replies. And then she takes a step back, lets her arms slip from around Serena but catches at her hand instead, lacing their fingers together and smiling as Serena gasps at the slide of their skin. ‘Shall we?’

Serena nods mutely, and they start what suddenly feels like a very long journey up the stairs.

*

It’s Serena’s hands that tremble now. Now that they’re finally stood here, at the foot of her bed, together. Now that Bernie is gazing at her with such care and want. Now that their bodies are arcing closer, as if they can’t bear to be apart for even a moment longer.

 _I can’t,_ Serena realises, as Bernie’s fingers rise to grasp the lapels of her robe, as Bernie looks at her with a question in her eyes. _I can’t bear it any longer._

Instead of replying she lifts her own hands to push Bernie’s robes from her shoulders, starts on the buttons of her shirt before Bernie manages to move again.

‘You could use magic,’ she points out, when Bernie is frowning with concentration as she fumbles with the third button of her blouse. ‘Would be quicker,’ she gasps, when Bernie’s wrist brushes her nipple through the layers of fabric.

‘I want to unwrap you myself,’ Bernie replies, humming with satisfaction when she gets to the last button and pushes the soft silk to the floor, her hands skimming across Serena’s shoulders and down her arms to rest on her hips.

So they part long enough to place their wands under their pillows and then shed the rest of their clothes the Muggle way, stiff buttons and tight jeans and all, soft kisses becoming more insistent as more skin is revealed and touched.

‘Bed,’ Serena growls, with Bernie’s lips on her neck and Bernie’s hand grasping her hip.

‘Mm,’ Bernie agrees, the vibration against her skin making Serena shiver, but she doesn’t stop, doesn’t look up.

‘Now,’ Serena insists, her voice breaking slightly as Bernie nips at her throat, as she soothes the spot with her tongue. ‘Please, Bernie.’

They end up lying facing each other, legs tangled, lips and tongues and fingers frantic. It’s imperfect and inelegant and quite frankly uncomfortable but Serena needs to feel Bernie so desperately that she doesn’t care. Doesn’t care that the arm under Bernie’s neck, holding her tight around her shoulders, is starting to fizz with pins and needles. Doesn’t care that her hips are going to scream blue murder at her when she tries to move later, that her wrist is going to do the same. The thought that Bernie’s back is probably going to be agony briefly flashes across her mind but soon vanishes. None of that matters in the face of this. She _needs_ to touch Bernie, needs to be inside Bernie while Bernie is inside her, needs to make Bernie come as Bernie makes her come, needs it all and needs it _now_ , comfort and elegance be damned.

*

Later she takes her time. There’s no doubt that Bernie is physically stronger than her but she lets Serena roll her onto her back, willingly splays herself across the mattress beneath her so Serena can worship her with lips and teeth and tongue and fingers. She kisses across soft skin and freckles and scars she doesn’t know the stories behind, feels every quiver of muscle and hitch of breath, hears every tiny sigh and moan and does everything she can to draw them from Bernie again and again until she’s between trembling thighs and Bernie finally, breathlessly, pleads with her and Serena can’t resist any more, can’t deny Bernie – or herself – a moment longer.

*

Serena wakes still wrapped in Bernie’s arms, Bernie’s fingers lightly trailing up and down her side, her ribs, her waist. It’s still day but only just, the room now chilly and dim. Serena shivers a little, smiles as Bernie’s arms tighten and she presses a kiss to the top of Serena’s head.

And then she realises that Bernie is shaking slightly, that her breath has become ragged. When she hears the first sniff, feels the first tear catch the tip of her nose before it splashes onto Bernie’s chest, she shifts, stays pressed against Bernie but raises herself so she can look her in the eye.

But Bernie’s eyes are closed tightly as she tries not to cry. Serena brushes a kiss to each eyelid, tastes the salt gathered on her eyelashes, feathers kisses across her cheekbones, down her nose, to the corner of her mouth. She knows what Bernie’s thinking because she’s thinking it too: _I could have lost her, we could have lost each other, we could lose each other tomorrow._ And with every kiss she tries to reassure them both, tries to say that _I’m here, you’re here, we’re here._

It isn’t until she reaches Bernie’s lips that Bernie responds. Serena suddenly finds herself being kissed fiercely, being held so tightly it almost hurts, finds Bernie gazing at her with fearful, sorrowful eyes.

‘I don’t want to waste another moment,’ Bernie murmurs hoarsely. ‘Merlin, Serena, we might never have got here. It might all have been torn away from us.’

‘I know,’ Serena replies as Bernie kisses away the tears spilling from her own eyes. ‘Oh darling, I know.’ She nuzzles into the crook of Bernie’s neck, drops a kiss to her collarbone, presses her cheek against the softness of her breast as Bernie’s hands rub up and down her back, as Bernie buries her nose in her hair. ‘But we did,’ she whispers.

‘Yes,’ Bernie replies, one hand curling around Serena’s shoulder and the other around her hip.

*

The next time Serena wakes it’s with a start, to pitch blackness and a cold space beside her. She flings a hand out across the mattress but it’s empty.

‘Bernie?’ she tries to call, but her heart is thudding and her mouth is dry and her lungs refuse to fill.

She gasps a shuddering breath, grips the covers and tries to ground herself but all she can see in the darkness is Bernie crumpling to the floor as she stands over her, helpless, a trio of Death Eaters advancing on them.

And then the door opens with a creak and there’s the soft glow of a wand tip and her panic-filled eyes land on Bernie. Bernie, upright and alive and _right here_. Serena scrambles out of bed and practically launches herself at Bernie, arms around her waist and face burrowed into her neck.

For a moment, stunned, Bernie can’t move. But then she realises what’s happening and hugs Serena tightly. ‘Alright,’ she soothes. ‘It’s alright, Serena. It’s alright.’

When Serena has softened a little in her arms and her grip has loosened a little, Bernie gently walks them over to the bed and, without letting go, manoeuvres them onto it. Serena curls into her, fingers gripping the edge of the shirt Bernie had pulled on when she got up to get a glass of water.

‘I’m here,’ Bernie says softly, one hand on Serena’s cheek, trying to coax her to look up. ‘Serena?’

Serena sniffles and turns her face further into Bernie, but Bernie gently tickles her side until she squirms and glares at her.

‘I’m here,’ Bernie repeats seriously.

Serena nods, sighs. ‘I’m sorry.’

Bernie shakes her head, smiles slightly, cradles Serena’s face in her hand, kisses her tenderly.

‘You must think I’m being pathetic. After all this is what you do, isn’t it? Fight Death Eaters?’

‘It is,’ Bernie agrees. ‘But–’ She hesitates, takes a breath, gazes into Serena’s eyes.

‘But you usually have your team with you,’ Serena finishes for her. ‘Usually have someone trained beside you and not a next to useless–’

‘You’re nowhere near useless,’ Bernie interjects. ‘You saved us both, Serena. Which is what I should have been doing. What I was going to say,’ she continues, before Serena can interrupt her again, ‘is that I don’t usually have someone next to me that I like. No, _more than_ like,’ she stumbles, blushing and biting her lip.

‘Oh,’ Serena breathes. ‘You– oh.’

‘Yes,’ Bernie murmurs, brushing a kiss to Serena’s lips. ‘Now, why don’t we go and have something to eat, and then wash the remnants of the forest off ourselves, and then come back to bed?’

‘Together?’

‘Yes,’ Bernie replies. ‘If– if that’s alright?’

‘I’d– well, I’d rather not be apart, not yet.’

‘Me neither,’ Bernie sighs in relief.

*

They spend the next week working out of the embassy, as per Hanssen’s wishes. Bernie doesn’t say anything but Serena knows how shaken she still is by the fact that she doesn’t protest or complain, not even once, not even after three days when they only leave the office to grab lunch around the corner, a member of Ric’s security detail trailing them. Serena is glad she’s known for being a tactile person because it means no one pays any attention to how often she touches Bernie, to how their arms always brush when they walk side by side, to how her fingers trail along Bernie’s arm or rest on her shoulder.

Bernie is fastidious about leaving work at work now, about not letting Serena pore over notes after dinner, about spending evenings relaxing together in front of the fire and going to bed on time. Serena knows she blames herself for what happened, knows nothing she says will make any difference, so instead she tries not to get annoyed at Bernie’s new rules. Not that it’s really much of a hardship when it means more time together, more time with Bernie to herself, more time in Bernie’s arms.

She still has nightmares, still wakes in the dark from visions of Bernie dead in the forest and a ring of Death Eaters closing in around them as she finds she’s forgotten every spell she ever knew.

So does Bernie. The first time it happens she refuses to say a word, refuses to look at Serena, will only hold her close and press kisses to her skin as if reassuring herself that she’s still here. But on the fifth night – five nights when they’ve both had broken sleep, both woken at least once with their hearts racing from fear – she stares up at the ceiling with Serena curled into her side and whispers, ‘I couldn’t save you.’

Serena says nothing, blindly searches for her hand and waits.

‘They stunned you first,’ Bernie continues. ‘Disarmed and bound me and made me watch as they–’ Her breath hitches and she falls silent, and Serena tries to press closer, tries to make herself as solid and present as she can. ‘They made me watch you die,’ she chokes out.

Serena shifts onto her back, pulls Bernie so that her head is on her breast, ear above her heart.

‘You hear that?’ she asks, fighting to keep her voice steady.

Bernie nods, and Serena feels her tears start to soak through her pyjamas and holds her tighter.

‘I’m alive,’ she says fiercely.

‘I know,’ Bernie whispers. She raises her head and kisses Serena, hard and wet and wanting, and Serena can’t stop herself from moaning, from arching against Bernie, from slipping one hand into her hair and clutching hard to keep her as close as she can.

Bernie slips from her grasp, kisses and licks and bites her way down Serena’s neck, across the skin not covered by her pyjamas, has undone the buttons on her top before Serena even realises it. The flick of Bernie’s tongue across her nipple comes as a surprise, makes Serena gasp and shiver and grip Bernie’s shoulder hard enough that she’s bound to leave a mark.

Bernie leaves her breast to kiss down her sternum, her ribcage, her stomach. But before she can go any lower Serena tugs at her hair, draws her back up so she can kiss her, can slip her tongue inside Bernie’s mouth, can feel Bernie pressed against her, breasts and stomach and hips.

‘Can I–?’ Bernie asks, fingertips stroking Serena's hip, hovering along the waistband of her trousers.

‘Yes,’ Serena whispers. She gasps as Bernie's hand slips inside her pyjamas and presses against her through her knickers. Cranes her neck to find Bernie's lips again as she pushes the fabric aside and trails a finger through her wetness. Arches her back and shudders and keens as Bernie just barely grazes her clit. She gasps again, manages Bernie’s name this time, and then can only throw her head back and moan because Bernie has eased two fingers inside her, is pressing and curling and coaxing until Serena flails one hand out to clutch her pillow, flings her other arm around Bernie, fingers opening and closing against her back as she shudders.

‘You feel so good,’ Bernie murmurs as she feels Serena’s body become tense and taut beneath her, as her back bows up off the mattress pushing her breasts tight against Bernie’s. And then: ‘I’ve got you, I’ve got you,’ when Serena cries something she thinks might be her name, but then again might be a curse or a deity or just a shapeless vocalisation because she had to give voice to it, had to let everything inside her escape somehow.

Bernie tries to move off Serena, to settle beside her, but Serena’s arm is heavy around her and her hand grips Bernie’s shoulder almost frantically, so she stays. Carefully drapes her body over Serena’s, feels her hand loosen, lays her head on the same pillow as Serena’s, murmurs nonsense words into her ear as she mewls and trembles with aftershocks. Is almost blinded by the force of Serena’s smile when she comes back to herself and turns to face her, can’t keep from kissing her, can’t keep from smiling at the feel of Serena’s smile against her lips.

‘I love you,’ Serena says sleepily, warmly, joyously. She sighs, lifts her hand and trails a fingertip down Bernie’s cheek, along her jawline, across her lips. ‘I mean it,’ she adds softly, seriously, and Bernie feels tears prick at her eyes again, feels Serena catch them on the pad of her thumb and gently wipe them away. ‘It's not just the orgasm talking. I love you, Bernie.’

Bernie's heart swells so much she can't speak, instead kisses Serena slowly and thoroughly before nestling against her, her head once again laid above Serena's heart. Serena reaches for her hand and laces their fingers, thumb rubbing absentmindedly across Bernie's.

Bernie falls asleep with Serena's arm around her waist, Serena's hand firmly clasped in hers, Serena's heartbeat strong and steady in her ear. When she next wakes it is gently, to early sunlight and Serena's warmth, and as she is kissed good morning she blinks in confusion and disbelief at having slept solidly for hours.


	15. Chapter 15

When they arrive the embassy later that morning they’re met by a young wizard in plum and black robes, haven’t even had chance to get themselves coffee before he bounces into their office.

‘I can’t believe no one told me you were coming,’ he exclaims. ‘I’d have cut my holiday short if I’d known.’

Bernie and Serena exchange frowns and slight shakes of their heads.

‘I’m sorry, who are you?’ Serena asks.

‘Dominic Copeland,’ he says, thrusting his hand out first to her, then to Bernie. ‘Oh, you don’t know me,’ he adds hurriedly when they still look confused. ‘But – well, I’ve heard so much about you, Ms Campbell. And you too, Ms Wolfe. You’re both kind of a big deal, and I was hoping maybe I could work with you, while you’re here? It would be such an amazing opportunity.’

They exchange another glance; Bernie tilts her head, and Serena nods.

‘Very well, Mr Copeland,’ Serena smiles.

‘Thank you so much,’ he grins. ‘What can I do?’

‘You can start by fetching coffee for us both.’

‘Nightmare until she’s had her first cup,’ Bernie teases, eyes sparkling.

‘Strong and hot,’ Serena says before Dom can ask. ‘And then we’ll see what the rest of the day holds.’

When Dom comes back Bernie is sat on the edge of Serena’s desk, Serena’s hand resting on Bernie’s thigh. He pauses in the doorway, watches as Bernie’s fingers trace patterns around Serena’s knuckles, as they gaze at each other with soft, warm eyes that belie their formidable reputations.

_Essie failed to pass on that tasty bit of gossip,_ he thinks, smiling to himself.

‘Your coffees, mesdames,’ he says brightly.

Bernie pulls her hand away but Serena lingers a moment longer, only moves when Dom is close enough for her to reach and take her mug from him.

*

For the first time since they arrived in France Bernie spends most of her time that morning not watching Serena. Instead she watches Dom as _he_ watches Serena, as he scribbles notes she suspects are as much about what Serena is doing and saying, how Serena is behaving, as they are about what is actually being discussed.

Their meeting finishes a little early before lunch, and with a pat to Bernie’s shoulder as she passes and a promise not to be long Serena excuses herself to find Ric.

Dom puts down his quill and parchment with a sigh, turns his gaze to Bernie.

‘She’s incredible,’ he says in disbelief. ‘Mr Griffin said she was good but he definitely sold her short. You’re very lucky.’

Bernie looks at him sharply, frowning.

‘To get to work with her so closely,’ he explains.

‘I am indeed,’ Bernie replies.

‘Although forgive me if it’s none of my business but I don’t think you’re just colleagues?’

Bernie looks at him steadily, and Dom finds himself quailing a little under her scrutiny, forcibly reminded of the fact that this is Bernie Wolfe, the talented, seasoned Auror. ‘You’re right, it is none of your business,’ she says. But then she smiles, and her face softens.

‘I won’t tell anyone,’ he promises, trying not to squirm because he knows he won’t be able to resist telling Essie. _Although that hardly counts,_ he reasons, _seeing as she must surely at least suspect already._

‘It’s not a secret,’ Bernie says, and smiles again when she sees his shoulders drop in relief.

‘So what, are you the Auror Department’s ultimate power couple?’

‘Something like that,’ Serena says archly from the doorway, her eyes passing over him before landing on Bernie. ‘I expect to see you back here at two on the dot, Mr Copeland.’

‘Yes, yes, of course,’ he replies, hastily getting up and leaving the office, pulling the door closed behind him.

‘You know it’ll be all over the embassy by half way through lunch?’ Serena asks, standing behind Bernie and resting both hands on her shoulders, squeezing gently.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says quietly.

‘Don’t be.’

Hearing the smile in her voice, Bernie twists around to look at her, dislodging one of Serena’s hands so it slides across her collarbone. Serena wiggles her fingers under the edge of Bernie’s robe and the collar of her shirt to find bare skin, lets out a little sigh at the contact.

‘Lunch?’ she asks softly, and Bernie nods.

They leave the office and walk through the embassy with Serena’s hand firmly in the crook of Bernie’s elbow, feel curious gazes on their backs but ignore them all.

*

Dominic spends most of the next few days with them, and proves to be an asset. He’s bright and enthusiastic, if perhaps lacking a little in the subtlety and finesse diplomacy demands.

‘But that can be taught, learned,’ Serena reasons as they discuss him with Ric.

‘I’m not sure he’s got the right temperament,’ Ric argues.

Bernie privately agrees with him: Dom certainly has skills, she just isn’t certain diplomacy is the right fit for them. But Serena is willing to give him a chance, so she keeps her reservations to herself. Merlin knows they could do with all the help they can get.

‘So I can keep him for the rest of our visit?’ Serena asks, although from her tone it’s not really a question.

‘Yes, you can keep him,’ Ric confirms. ‘As long as you don’t turn him into something unmanageable and leave me with the hard work of salvaging him?’

‘As if I would,’ Serena says with a wink, and Ric just shakes his head.

‘I’ve missed you, Serena,’ he says.

‘You have? I’d have thought you were overjoyed when you heard I’d moved to London.’

‘Oh I was,’ he teases. ‘All the same, it is good to work with you again.’

‘Likewise,’ Serena smiles.

‘Probably a good job it’s only temporary though,’ he says dryly, and Serena laughs in agreement.

*          *          *

Bernie glares at the parchment in her hand as if it might bite her then looks up at Serena, eyes dark and wide and pleading.

‘It’ll be fun,’ Serena says. ‘Free food and wine, dancing, me on your arm. In a pretty dress,’ she adds, with a wink.

Bernie’s eyes spark at the thought, but it isn’t enough to keep her from frowning. ‘We’re supposed to be back in London by then,’ she argues.

‘I know,’ Serena agrees. ‘Henrik isn’t really giving us much of a choice, though.’

‘And what about your safety? We’ll be in an unfamiliar room, surrounded by unfamiliar people. How does he expect me to be able to protect you?’

‘Not all unfamiliar,’ Serena counters. ‘I did used to work there, after all. And darling we’ll be at the French Ministry, with the Minister himself in attendance. I think security’s going to be pretty tight.’

Bernie humphs and looks back down at the scroll. “An opportunity to enjoy yourselves before you return,” she scoffs, throwing it down onto the table and rubbing her eyes. ‘You’d think he’d know me by now,’ she mutters. ‘A ball is practically at the bottom of any list of things I might ‘enjoy’.’

‘I know,’ Serena soothes. ‘Although you don’t usually get to attend them with me. Oh, we’ll have to go shopping, get you some new robes.’

‘I have dress robes,’ Bernie points out.

‘You have your uniform,’ Serena corrects. ‘But you’re not going in any sort of official capacity as an Auror, so they’re not really appropriate.’

‘Only good thing about having a uniform was that I never had to shop for dress robes,’ Bernie mutters. ‘I hate shopping.’

‘You’re lucky I don’t, then,’ Serena says brightly. ‘I know the perfect place. We can go tomorrow, before meeting up with Siân.’

Bernie knows better than to argue, just nods and bends her head to her work and tries to ignore the curling parchment in the corner of her vision. She’s grateful when Dom sends her a memo and she can escape the office for a while, can forget the ordeal ahead.


	16. Chapter 16

It wasn’t how Bernie had envisaged spending their last free day in France. She drags her heels all the way down the street, pretends to study the contents of every shop display but knows she’s just putting off the inevitable. And she feels bad about her reluctance and dark mood, because Serena has been so excited about this. Excited enough that Bernie wondered aloud if she’d put Hanssen up to ordering their attendance at the ball.

‘I wouldn’t do that to you,’ Serena had replied. ‘Just rather looking forward to seeing you in a succession of gorgeous robes and getting to pick my favourite,’ she’d added with a wink and a caress of her hand along Bernie’s arm.

Madame Vernier’s is opposite them now. Bernie moves closer to the window of the broomstick shop, looks closely at the new model on display, but Serena tugs on her hand and gently but firmly pulls her across the street and inside.

‘Serena,’ smiles a witch dressed in fashionable emerald robes, sweeping across the room to kiss both of her cheeks. ‘It’s been too long! What can I do for you today? We’ve got some beautiful robes in just your style.’

‘Actually I’m not here for me. We’ve been invited to the Ministry’s ball next week and Bernie here is in need of new dress robes for the occasion.’

Madame Vernier looks at Bernie so closely she blushes under the scrutiny, resists the temptation to shuffle her feet and brush the creases from her robes.

‘I see,’ she hums. ‘What is it you’re after?’

Serena follows Madame Vernier around the shop, describing what she has in mind. Bernie leaves them to it, decided as soon as she stepped over the threshold that the whole ordeal will be over much quicker if she just lets Serena have her way. She tunes out their chatter and wanders around by herself, occasionally daring to brush her fingers along what is clearly very expensive fabric.

_There’s no way I can afford any of this,_ she thinks suddenly, panicking. She needs to tell Serena before this goes any further, needs to tell her they’ve got to go somewhere else, tell her that a single outfit from here probably costs more than the rest of her wardrobe put together.

‘Come on then,’ Serena says, slipping an arm through hers. ‘Let’s get a look at you in some of these.’

‘Serena, I–’

‘What is it, darling?’

‘It’s all so– so lovely but– well, I’m pretty sure my salary won’t stretch to this,’ she says quietly.

‘Oh, don’t worry about that,’ Serena smiles, patting her arm. ‘I’ll claim it back on expenses.’

‘You can’t get the Ministry to pay for new dress robes for me,’ Bernie splutters, staring at her.

‘Whyever not? They haven’t had to cover our accommodation costs so this mission has been a bargain for them. And if Henrik’s going to insist that we attend this ball, the least he can do is ensure that we’re both appropriately dressed. I’d gladly pay for them myself,’ she adds softly when Bernie frowns at her, trying to work out just how unacceptable a use of Ministry funds this would be. ‘They’re at least as much of a treat for me as they are for you.’

‘I don’t know if that would be better or worse,’ Bernie mutters.

‘We can argue over it later,’ Serena promises. ‘Once we’ve actually got something to argue over. Come on, you don’t want to keep her waiting, trust me.’

Serena practically drags her over to the back of the shop and shoves her into the changing room where half a dozen sets of robes are hanging waiting for her.

‘Fashion show time,’ Serena grins. The glittering of her eyes is irresistible, and Bernie finds herself smiling too.

The first set of robes are fine; if it was down to her, Bernie would buy them and that would be that. But Serena makes her turn around so she can assess them from all angles, frowns and twists her mouth, and Bernie ducks back behind the curtain with a sigh. If she’s going to spend this much of someone’s money, she wants a better reaction than that.

The second set are so completely outside her style that Bernie almost takes them off without even showing Serena. But she makes herself pull the curtain aside, and snorts with laughter as Serena tries to hold herself together.

The third set is okay again, but nothing special. They do feel lovely, though, and Serena smiles triumphantly when Bernie tells her this.

Bernie takes her time in front of the mirror when she pulls on the fourth set, ignores Serena’s impatience and looks at herself. Everything is black: the shirt, the trousers, the mid-thigh length belted coat with gold embroidery at the collar and cuffs and pockets. And the cloak, which is shot through with blue and turquoise and purple, and lined with deep blue silk, shimmering like the aurora borealis as she moves.

‘Let’s have a look, then,’ Serena says again.

This time Bernie obeys, pulls back the curtain and waits for the verdict. But Serena can only gaze at her, open mouthed and wide eyed.

‘Yes,’ she manages eventually. ‘Those are good.’

Madame Vernier bustles over and looks at her with a practiced eye. ‘Stunning,’ she smiles. ‘But not quite the perfect fit.’

She leads Bernie over to a stool and ushers her onto it, flits around taking measurements and pinning and making notes. To begin with Bernie is fidgety, and Madame Vernier sharply reprimands her to just stand still. So she lets her gaze follow Serena as she browses, watches as she examines dresses and robes and cloaks, fingers softly stroking velvet and satin and silk. She keeps going back to the same [robes](http://saliechelon255.tumblr.com/post/155766851160), keeps lingering in front of them, looks at them even when she’s flicking through the next rack, and Bernie can see the longing in her entire body. It’s a midnight blue dress, cut from the same fabric as the lining of her own cloak, the back a deep v, held up by narrow straps of gold. And over the top a translucent blue cloak embroidered with glittering stars.

She’s still gazing at them when Madame Vernier has finished and Bernie has changed back into her own clothes.

‘They’re beautiful,’ she says softly, walking over behind her.

Serena jumps. ‘Can you wear louder shoes?’

‘They’d be even more beautiful with you in them.’ Bernie touches a finger to Serena’s arm, leans close so her breath whispers across the soft, soft skin of her neck. She longs to kiss her there, that perfect spot behind her right ear, but doesn’t. She’s hesitant about touching Serena, even in her kitchen when it’s just the two of them, even in her bed, doesn’t yet feel she has the right, feels she still needs to make amends.

Serena has no such qualms. She shuffles a bit and leans back against Bernie’s chest, rests her head on her shoulder, the movement making Bernie’s nose rub along the side of her neck. She reaches across to cover the hand hovering at her elbow, to fold it around her arm and hold it there. Bernie is stiff for a moment then lets the side of her head rest against Serena’s, lets her hand curl around her arm and smiles when Serena’s fingers settle into the gaps between hers. She doesn’t quite dare to press a kiss to her hair or her skin just yet, but knows that one day she will.

‘I don’t need new dress robes,’ Serena sighs wistfully, even as she strokes the perfect, delicate constellations. ‘I’ve a wardrobe full of things I’ve only worn once, plenty to choose from.’

‘Ok,’ Bernie says softly, and twists her hand so she can glance at her watch. ‘Why don’t you go on and meet Siân while I finish up here?’

Serena nods, so Bernie walks her to the door and watches until she’s safely inside the coffee shop next door.

‘Madame Vernier?’ she calls.

‘Yes?’

‘Could you alter these to Serena’s measurements, and send them with mine?’

‘Of course, she’s a regular so that won’t be a problem. A surprise for her?’ she smiles.

Bernie nods, reaches to touch the dress with the very tips of her fingers and smiles as she imagines Serena wearing it.

‘You’re going to the ball together?’

‘Yes, that’s right,’ Bernie replies, following her as she carefully carries the robes over to the counter and lays them beside Bernie’s.

‘Might I suggest, then, adding a little something to tie them together? The colours already match but perhaps the embroidery on yours here,’ she says, pointing to the collar and cuffs of the jacket. ‘I could add the same star design?’

‘That– that would be wonderful, yes. Thank you.’

‘It’s a pleasure, Bernie. And I will ensure the package is addressed to you and not to Serena. It would be a shame to spoil the surprise,’ she adds with a wink.

*

When Bernie walks into the coffee shop, Serena and a witch in shocking fuchsia robes are already sat with coffee and pastries; she’s pleased to see that Serena is sitting with her back to the wall, facing the door, just as she told her to. Bernie watches as Serena’s gaze falls on her, as Siân turns and looks at her. It feels wholly unfair to be appraised this closely by two people in one day, but she takes a deep breath and strides over.

‘You must be Siân,’ she says, holding out a hand.

‘And you must be Bernie,’ Siân replies. ‘Quite the fingers you’ve got there,’ she purrs. ‘Oh, the things they must be able to do.’

‘Siân!’ Serena hisses, flushing, as Bernie sinks into the chair beside her and ducks her head.

‘What?’ Siân grins. ‘Don’t tell me the famous Bernie Wolfe is shy?’

Serena reaches to cover Bernie’s restless, twisting hands with her own, waits for Bernie to meet her eye and holds it steadily, smiles at her.

‘Oh,’ Siân breathes. ‘Oh Serena.’

‘What?’ Serena frowns, looking across the table at her.

Siân’s grin has vanished, replaced by a soft and genuine smile that she turns first on Serena and then on Bernie, who manages to meet her eye at last. ‘The gorgeous, macho Auror I was expecting – who could resist that, after all? But you appear to have captured my Serena’s heart too. I can’t remember the last time I saw her so happy. I hope you realise how lucky you are.’

‘Oh, I do.’ Bernie glances at Serena and smiles, laces their fingers properly and nudges Serena’s knee under the table.

‘Good. Because Auror or not, if you break her heart I’ll break you.’

‘I don’t doubt it for an instant,’ Bernie replies seriously. And then she turns to Serena, mutters teasingly, ‘Does she terrorise all your partners?’

‘Only the ones I really like,’ Serena says with a wink, warming at the casual way Bernie referred to them as partners.

*

When they get back later Serena drifts to her wardrobe and looks at her dress robes, takes several out and holds them up against herself in front of the mirror, grumbling under her breath.

‘You’d look stunning in any of them,’ Bernie says softly.

‘Thank you,’ Serena smiles. But she looks and sounds wistful and Bernie knows she’s thinking of the constellation robes, smiles to herself because she can’t wait to surprise her with them.

‘Or in nothing at all,’ she adds, taking the hanger from Serena’s hand before leaning in to touch her lips to the spot behind her ear that she had wanted to kiss earlier, fingers starting to slip her robes from her shoulders. ‘Although maybe,’ she murmurs against Serena’s soft, warm skin, feeling her pulse starting to race beneath her lips, ‘we should keep that between the two of us instead of sharing it with the entire French Ministry of Magic.’


	17. Chapter 17

‘Can I come back to London with you?’ Dom asks on the afternoon of their last day at the embassy.

He’s been building up to it all day, fidgety and distracted and snappish, and Serena’s glad he’s finally spat it out, only wishes he’d done it sooner because all he’s achieved by waiting is making their work – one last rescheduled meeting and completing reports for both Ric and Hanssen – harder.

Serena bites back her initial response. ‘We’ll have to discuss it with Mr Griffin,’ she says instead, although she knows that whatever Ric might say her answer’s still going to be no.

When they’re down to finalising their reports Bernie sends him off with a smile, tells him there’s nothing more he can do to help and he’ll only get bored watching them go over the last details.

‘He’s not coming,’ Serena says firmly once he’s closed the door behind him.

‘No,’ Bernie agrees.

‘I’m not putting another young wizard in danger,’ she continues.

‘I don’t know if you heard, but I agreed with you,’ Bernie teases. ‘I– well, I’m reluctant enough to let you go back to London, let alone him.’

‘You don’t want me to come back with you?’ Serena frowns, her eyes filling with hurt.

‘I don’t want you to be in a war zone,’ Bernie clarifies, leaning across the desk. ‘I want to be with you more than anything, but the thought of you being in danger – again – is–’ She breaks off and looks away, and Serena waits as she searches for the right words. ‘It terrifies me,’ she says eventually, and Serena drops her quill and reaches for her hand.

‘That’s how I feel about you,’ she says softly. ‘How I felt about you before, every time you went out on a mission. I was terrified you wouldn’t come back to me.’

Much to Serena’s surprise, Bernie lets out a bark of laughter. ‘And there I was thinking you were worried about Edward,’ she mutters.

‘Only ever you,’ Serena says, shaking her head. ‘I don’t quite know how I’m going to live with that fear again,’ she admits. ‘But I do know I’d far rather be there, be spending whatever time we _do_ have together. I’d only worry about you from here anyway.’

‘I know,’ Bernie says, thumb stroking the back of Serena’s hand. ‘I just– what if something happens to you, Serena?’

‘Then it happens,’ Serena says with a shrug. ‘But I don’t think we should let the fear of what might happen take away the happiness we can have now, do you?’

Bernie shakes her head, swallows hard and blinks away tears, ducks her head but knows it’s too late, knows Serena has already seen them. She pulls her hand from Serena’s and stands up, runs her hand through her hair as she turns away and tries to keep herself from sobbing at the thought of losing Serena. Her breath becomes ragged, her blood rushing in her ears so she doesn’t hear Serena push her chair out, doesn’t hear the footsteps as she approaches, jumps at the gentle hand on her shoulder.

‘I don’t– I don’t think I can do this,’ Bernie says, voice panicky and hoarse.

‘What?’ Serena asks softly.

Bernie stares up at the ceiling, rubs at her eyes. ‘It’s just all too much.’

‘What is?’ Serena repeats.

‘Loving you,’ Bernie almost wails. And then she realises what she’s said and stares at Serena, no longer caring about the tears trickling down her cheeks.

‘Darling,’ Serena breathes, drawing her close and feeling Bernie grip the back of her robes almost desperately. ‘All we can do,’ she murmurs, one hand stroking up and down Bernie’s spine, the other gently massaging her scalp, ‘is take each day as it comes.’

‘But what if– what if I– or if you– All that pain, Serena.’

‘You don’t think it’s worth it, the chance of a happy future together?’

Serena tries desperately to keep her voice steady but it wavers all the same, and Bernie loosens her grip enough that her hands slip to rest on Serena’s waist, enough that she can meet her eye and see her tears and worry and hope.

‘Imagining a future without you hurts more than anything,’ she whispers, resting her forehead against Serena’s.

‘I can’t promise that won’t happen. But I refuse to miss out on today, tomorrow, next month, next year with you because of something that _might_ happen. If every day could be our last then I want to spend every one of them with you.’

‘Okay,’ Bernie nods, taking a shaky breath. ‘Okay,’ she repeats, smiling.

Serena smiles too, rubs her nose against Bernie’s and lightly kisses her lips, then sighs. ‘What are we going to do about Dom, then? I can’t imagine he’ll take kindly to me just saying no.’

Bernie frowns, lets Serena go so they can both sit back down again. ‘You’ll need a contact here when we leave, right? Someone to keep up to date with events, who can liaise on your behalf?’

‘Yes, it was always going to be Ric. He is ambassador, after all, really it’s part of his job.’

‘Why don’t you ask if Dom could do it? With Ric or Sacha overseeing as necessary, of course. That way he gets to feel he’s doing something important but stay safe. And maybe we could see about him coming over after the war, if he still wants to work with the illustrious Serena Campbell? I didn’t realise you were such a celebrity until we met him,’ she teases.

‘Shut up, you,’ Serena says, rolling her eyes.

*

‘When we go back to London,’ Serena says that night, after they’ve promised to keep in touch with Dom, after she’s prodded Ric to make a move on Françoise and urged him not to be complacent when it comes to news from England, when Bernie is spooned behind her, ‘what do you want us to be?’

She feels Bernie tense against her back, knows she worded that wrong.

‘Do you mean you– you don’t want people–’

‘No,’ Serena says firmly, rolling over to face her. ‘I do. I want everyone to know,’ she smiles, clasping Bernie’s hand. ‘What I meant was– well, I know it’s fast but it’s war and I–’

‘What?’ Bernie asks when she hesitates.

‘I don’t want to waste a single moment, Bernie. I want to wake up next to you every morning and fall asleep in your arms every night. Like I said earlier, every day could be our last and I–’ She closes her eyes, swallows hard, takes a sharp breath. ‘I don’t want to lose you and regret time we didn’t spend together.’

‘What are you saying?’ Bernie breathes, tightening her hand around Serena’s.

‘I don’t want to go back to living alone. I want to live with you. If you’ll have me?’

She opens her eyes and looks at Bernie cautiously, to find her face not stricken with panic but breaking into a disbelieving grin.

‘I’m messy,’ Bernie warns.

‘I had noticed,’ Serena says dryly.

‘You really want to live with me?’

‘I do. I want it to be like this all the time, for however long we have.’

‘So do I,’ Bernie admits quietly, raising their clasped hands and pressing a kiss to Serena’s knuckles. ‘I’m, uh, I’m sorry I panicked earlier.’

Serena shakes her head. ‘It is scary, feeling this much. Especially when the world is– well, like this,’ she says, gesturing vaguely around them.

‘I just, I don’t want you to think I don’t care about you because I do.’

‘I know,’ Serena soothes. ‘I know you do, darling.’

She kisses Bernie softly, lets her lips linger just a little then nestles against her, their joined hands resting on Bernie’s chest, rising and falling with every breath she takes.

‘I love you,’ Bernie whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of Serena’s head.

‘Love you too,’ Serena replies, and Bernie can hear that she’s smiling.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Serena's robes were entirely inspired by [this stunning gif](http://saliechelon255.tumblr.com/post/155766851160) (thanks to Ames for sending it to me!).

They’re having a leisurely lunch the next day when there’s a tap on the kitchen window. Bernie looks up to see a tawny owl hovering just outside, a package gripped in its claws, hurries to let it in.

‘Your robes?’ Serena asks, eyes bright.

Bernie nods, doesn’t trust herself to speak without giving away her excitement at surprising Serena.

‘You look far less displeased at the prospect of tonight than I expected,’ Serena comments, frowning.

‘Well you were right, weren’t you? How could I not be pleased about a night out with you looking gorgeous on my arm?’

‘Charmer,’ Serena scolds fondly. And then she sighs and her face falls.

‘Still not decided what you’re going to wear?’ Bernie guesses.

‘No,’ Serena grumbles.

‘I’m sure you’ll figure it out,’ Bernie smiles. ‘And you’ll look beautiful, whatever you wear. I’m just going to go and hang these, won’t be long.’

Upstairs, in the room that had been hers, Bernie carefully unwraps the parcel, finds a spare hanger and in turn shakes out her new shirt, jacket and cloak, hooking the hanger over the wardrobe door. She studies the coat, lightly traces the new embroidery, looks at Serena’s cloak still in the brown paper and sees that Madame Vernier has matched the stars perfectly; there will be no doubt, tonight, that they are together.

And then she gingerly lifts out the cloak, the thin silk running through her fingers like water; Bernie’s certain she’s never seen robes more beautiful than these, fizzes with anticipation at the thought of Serena in them. She hears footsteps up the stairs, quickly and carefully hangs them and tucks them inside her wardrobe behind one of her heavy cloaks so if Serena were to come in she wouldn’t catch even a glimpse of them.

Just in time, too, because there’s a quiet tap on the door and then Serena is coming over to stand beside her, reaching to run her fingers down the lapel of Bernie’s new coat.

‘Mm, I’m very much looking forward to seeing you in these again,’ she purrs, and then frowns. ‘Is some of this embroidery new? I don’t remember it being so starry.’

Bernie shrugs, distracts Serena with a kiss. ‘Why don’t we go for a stroll, get a bit of fresh air seeing as we’re going to be cooped up inside all evening?’ she suggests.

‘As long as you promise to warm me up when we get back.’

‘I’m sure I can manage that,’ Bernie smiles.

So they wrap up in cloaks and scarves and gloves, and arm in arm Serena leads Bernie through the vineyards surrounding her house, shows her her favourite spots and tells her stories of Ellie’s childhood, of her mother before the illness stole her away.

‘We’ll have to come back in the summer, when all this is over,’ Serena says. ‘I’d like to show you around properly. And we can sit in the sun and drink wine all day, and not have to worry about anything.’

‘I like the sound of that,’ Bernie smiles. ‘Wine and sun and kisses? Mm, perfect.’

*

When they come back inside Bernie makes hot chocolate and they curl in front of the fire, warm their hands with their mugs and their bodies with a blanket and their hearts with each other.

And then Serena sighs and sits up. ‘I suppose we’d better get ready.’

Bernie nods and follows Serena up the stairs; Serena watches as she disappears into what had been her room and then goes into her own ( _ours now,_ she thinks with a smile) and stares, yet again, at the robes hanging in her wardrobe. She’s narrowed it down to two sets – deep purple or sea green – when there’s a soft tap on the door.

‘You don’t need to knock, darling,’ she calls, turning as Bernie pokes her head in.

‘Close your eyes,’ she requests.

‘Why?’ Serena asks suspiciously.

‘I’ve got a surprise for you. Please?’

‘Fine,’ Serena relents.

She hears Bernie pad into the room, feels the change in the air as she comes closer, hears the quiet whisper of silk and assumes Bernie has somehow already changed.

‘Open,’ Bernie says quietly.

Serena does. Bernie is holding the robes she spent so long admiring at Madame Vernier’s, a nervous, hopeful expression on her face.

‘Bernie,’ she breathes. ‘Oh, you really shouldn’t have,’ she scolds. But at the same time she reaches out to touch the dress, the cloak, her eyes lighting up.

‘You liked them so much,’ Bernie explains. ‘And you deserve something pretty, after the last few months. And I so wanted to see you in them,’ she adds, beginning to ramble.

Serena stops her with a kiss. ‘You really shouldn’t have,’ she repeats. ‘But thank you, darling.’

‘You’re very welcome,’ Bernie smiles. ‘Best get changed, we’ve got a ball to get to.’

The dress is the perfect fit. Serena feels a little exposed, isn’t used to wearing anything with such a low back, carefully pulls on the cloak but that barely helps because it’s so sheer. She’s still in front of the mirror fretting when Bernie comes back in, just fastening her cloak at her collarbones.

‘Oh,’ she breathes.

‘It’s too much, isn’t it?’ Serena says. ‘I’m showing far too much skin for a witch our age. Bernie?’ she asks when there’s no reply, turning around to find Bernie staring at her.

‘You look– you look stunning, Serena.’

‘Do you think so?’

‘Yes,’ Bernie says. ‘I knew you would but actually seeing you in them? Wow.’

‘That’s why there are new stars on your coat,’ Serena says, realisation dawning.

‘Madame Vernier’s suggestion,’ Bernie confesses. ‘Your strap – let me?’

Serena walks closer, shivers as Bernie untwists one of the delicate gold straps crossing her back, her fingers leaving goosebumps as they lightly trail across her skin.

‘You’re so beautiful,’ Bernie murmurs, pressing a kiss to the curve of Serena’s neck, one hand slipping around her waist. ‘I can’t believe I get to go with you.’

‘Likewise,’ Serena smiles. ‘Although now I’ve seen you I’m sorely tempted not to go at all.’

‘Oh no,’ Bernie grins, letting go of her and taking a step back. ‘I didn’t go through the torture of a shopping trip for nothing. Besides I want to show you off, want everyone to see just how lucky I am.’

*

Every eye turns on them as they pass. Bernie feels Serena’s fingers squeeze her elbow tighter, knows she’s still anxious about the cut of her robes and catches her eye, flashes her a smile. She has to resist the urge to duck her head and hide behind her fringe, to slink off into a corner and watch the crowd rather than being watched. Instead she holds herself tall, strides confidently towards the bar with Serena at her side, lifts two glasses of Shiraz and pretends she isn’t terrified at having so many people staring. Even if they are staring at Serena rather than her and she just happens to be here too.

‘Alright?’ Serena murmurs, taking the glass Bernie offers.

Bernie nods, doesn’t quite trust her voice not to betray her nerves.

‘They’ll have someone new to stare at soon enough,’ she soothes, runs her free hand along Bernie’s arm.

‘And just what,’ Bernie smiles, ‘are the chances of anyone looking more eye catching than you?’

Serena blushes and looks away, a smile tugging at her lips.

‘Honestly, Serena,’ Bernie murmurs, leaning close enough that her mouth is barely an inch from Serena’s ear. ‘I’ve never seen anyone more gorgeous than you. Especially in these robes.’

Bernie hears Serena’s sharp intake of breath, watches her fingers twitch around her glass, knows if she were to look up her eyes would have darkened.

‘And what about you, darling?’ Serena asks, low and smoky.

‘Me?’

‘Mm, delicious,’ she purrs.

Now Serena does look at her, but her gaze is so intense that Bernie can only hold it for a heartbeat. Her breath stutters and she shifts away a little, and Serena feels her straighten her spine.

‘How long do we have to stay?’

‘Long enough to be polite,’ Serena replies with a laugh.

‘Will you behave the rest of the night?’ Bernie asks, voice a little strained, eyes pleading.

‘If you do,’ she smiles. ‘Come on, the sooner we start mingling the sooner I can take you home.’

‘That’s not behaving,’ Bernie protests weakly, but Serena just winks at her.

Bernie lets Serena tug her further into the room, sips her wine and smiles and says as little as she can when they join a knot of people Serena knows, content to let Serena lead the conversation, to sparkle in her domain. With Serena’s arm through hers it somehow doesn’t seem as bad as usual; when Serena introduces her as her partner, shoots her a bright smile and leans into her a little to make sure her words can’t be misconstrued, she thinks she might even come to merely dislike formal events rather than detesting them.

They slowly make their way around the room, Bernie only leaving Serena’s side to refresh their drinks, to fetch them both plates of dainty food that looks almost too good to eat. When she comes back she steps up close to Serena’s back, so the front of her robes brush Serena’s bare back, relishes the tiny gasp and the glittering of Serena’s eyes when she turns to her, the slight trembling of her fingers when she takes her plate.

Later, they dance. The first time they’ve ever danced together, Bernie realises as they step into the flow of couples.

‘I wanted to ask you to dance at the Yule ball,’ Serena says softly.

‘I’d have said yes,’ Bernie replies. ‘I’ve never felt so jealous of Hanssen.’

‘I didn’t trust myself,’ Serena admits. ‘Seeing you in your uniform, Bernie,’ she adds with a deep sigh that sends a shiver down Bernie’s spine.

‘No one’s ever looked at me like you did that night,’ Bernie murmurs, pulling Serena against her a little more tightly, her fingers spreading across cool silk and warm skin.

When the waltz comes to an end they step off the floor by some unspoken agreement, put a little space between them as they take flutes of champagne from a passing waiter and, eyes locked, make a silent toast.

‘Excuse me ladies,’ says a wizard with a camera, tearing their attention from each other.

‘A photograph? What an excellent idea,’ Serena smiles. ‘Got to have something to commemorate having managed to persuade you into dress robes,’ she teases, winking at Bernie.

They allow the wizard to position them, lean close and gaze at each other again, barely notice when, photo taken, he moves on to the next knot of people.

‘Alright, darling?’ Serena asks softly.

‘I could do with some air. Do you mind if I–’

Serena shakes her head, hooks her arm through Bernie’s and begins to lead her around the edge of the room. ‘Come on.’

It’s cold outside. Serena lets Bernie slip from her grasp, stands on the threshold and wraps her arms around her waist, watches as she steps further into the empty courtyard and tips her head back to look at the pin sharp stars, her breath forming white plumes in the darkness.

‘Are you alright?’ she repeats.

‘Just needed some space. I know you enjoy these things but they get a bit much for me,’ she admits.

‘I know. We don’t have to stay much longer.’

Bernie turns, holds out her hands and coaxes Serena fully outside.

‘We’re going to look sickening in that photo, aren’t we?’ Bernie asks.

‘Probably,’ Serena grins. And then she shivers, tries to suppress it before Bernie notices but she’s already frowning and shrugging off her cloak.

‘Sorry, I’d forgotten your robes are so thin,’ she says.

Her hands are warm on Serena’s shoulders through the silk as she carefully wraps it around her. And then she’s in front of her, fingers brushing Serena’s collarbones as she draws it around and slowly fastens it. Serena watches her tiny frown of concentration as she works the delicate gold clasp, raises one hand to trace her jawline, to draw her chin up until their eyes meet.

‘Thank you,’ she says softly.

‘You’re very welcome,’ Bernie replies.

For a breathless moment time seems to stand still. And then, without either of them realising it, they’re both leaning closer until their lips touch.

Neither of them notices the photographer passing the door, looking out and catching a glimpse of them, lingering just long enough to raise his camera and capture the moment before he hurries away.

*

Whatever Serena might have promised, it’s late by the time they get back. She gently pushes Bernie into a chair and bustles about making tea to soothe them both: she’s still buzzing, not quite ready to try and sleep yet, but Bernie is wide-eyed and almost vibrating, clearly drained.

‘Here,’ Serena says softly, placing a steaming mug in front of her and sitting down too.

Bernie shakes her head slightly, looks up and blinks until she’s in focus. ‘Thanks,’ she murmurs, hooking two fingers around the handle and drawing the mug close enough to wrap both hands around it.

‘I’m sorry,’ Serena repeats yet again.

Bernie shakes her head again and smiles tiredly. ‘I had a good time. I did,’ she insists, when Serena raises one eyebrow in disbelief. ‘I was with you, how could I not? It’s exhausting though, all those people.’

‘Well, we’ve nothing to get up for tomorrow, darling.’

‘Good,’ Bernie murmurs into her tea.

‘I must admit,’ Serena adds, ‘that I’m looking forward to having you to myself for a whole day.’

‘Are you now?’ Bernie chuckles. She reaches a hand towards Serena’s, then snatches it back to cover a yawn. ‘Sorry,’ she mumbles, blushing.

‘Drink up, and then bed.’

‘Are you propositioning me, Campbell?’

‘I would be, if I didn’t think you’d fall asleep on me as soon as your head hits the pillow.’

‘Sorry,’ Bernie says again.

Serena shakes her head and smiles fondly. ‘It’s been a long night. A long month, really.’

‘Mm,’ Bernie agrees, sipping her tea.

‘No one I’d rather have spent it with, though.’

‘Me neither,’ Bernie smiles, her eyes sparkling despite her tiredness. She reaches for Serena’s hand again, this time not thwarted by a yawn, laces their fingers and sighs happily.


	19. Chapter 19

When Bernie wakes the next morning Serena is already up, and the scent of fresh coffee is wafting upstairs and through the open bedroom door. Bernie stretches, feels the usual ache in her back and carefully gets up. She slowly wanders downstairs and pauses in the kitchen doorway, watches as Serena pours coffee and arranges fruit and pastries on a plate, as she turns to place it on the table and smiles warmly when she sees Bernie.

‘This was where I realised I’d fallen in love with you,’ Bernie says softly. ‘That morning, the second day we were here, after you made me actually talk to you. You were standing just there and I don’t know what it was – something about the light, maybe? You just looked so beautiful and I– I knew, Serena. I just knew.’

‘I can’t recall the moment I realised I loved you,’ Serena admits, as Bernie crosses the kitchen to stand behind her, arms wrapping around her waist. ‘It was just there one day, and that was that.’

She covers Bernie’s hands with her own, arches her neck as Bernie presses kisses behind her ear, down to the juncture with her shoulder. When she nips gently and then soothes the spot with her tongue Serena moans and presses back into her.

‘Feeling more awake this morning, are we?’ she teases.

‘Mm,’ Bernie hums against her skin, making her shiver. ‘Anything you want to do today?’

‘I hadn’t really thought beyond breakfast. You?’

‘I’ve got some ideas,’ Bernie smiles.

Serena looks around at her, their noses brushing. ‘Do they by any chance involve you taking me back to bed and having your way with me?’

‘Might do,’ Bernie murmurs, her breath hot against Serena’s skin. And then she moves away, smiling at Serena’s soft whimper of protest. ‘Not until I’ve had coffee though. Don’t want me running out of energy now, do you?’ she asks, sitting down and taking a croissant from the plate.

‘That would be a deplorable situation,’ Serena agrees, sitting beside her and sipping her coffee, an innocent look on her face as she trails her toes up Bernie’s calf.

‘You’ll be the death of me, Campbell,’ Bernie says, but she doesn’t pull her leg out of Serena’s reach.

‘Oh no,’ Serena purrs over the rim of her mug. ‘I would hardly benefit from that, now would I?’

Serena’s lips quirk in amusement as Bernie tears off a large piece of her croissant and shoves it into her mouth.

‘Come on, ‘ Bernie mumbles around the pastry, flakes adorning the edges of her lips, pushing the plate towards her. ‘You need to refuel too.’

*

In the afternoon they force themselves out of bed, dress in Muggle clothes and walk arm in arm into town to buy fresh bread and cheese. When it clouds over and rain starts to spot the cobbles they dash into a café, share a pot of coffee and a religieuse. Bernie looks out at the leaden sky and frowns.

‘It’s just a bit of rain, darling.’

‘I know,’ Bernie sighs. ‘I just– I had plans.’

Much as Serena tries Bernie refuses to be drawn on what exactly these plans are, just keeps staring dejectedly at the clouds, craning her neck trying to catch a glimpse of clear sky between them. Even Serena’s teasing comment that they’ll just have to find something to keep them occupied inside, accompanied by a wink and a brush of her fingers along Bernie’s arm, fails to raise more than a tight smile.

When they get back, damp through, their hair glittering with drops of rain, Bernie waits until Serena is settled in front of the fire with a book and then disappears back outside, her Muggle coat replaced by a cloak and a small bag over her shoulder. Serena puts her book aside and watches from the window as she strides out into the vineyard, finds herself looking up at the sky too and hoping that whatever secret Bernie has planned, the inclement weather isn’t going to entirely ruin it.

*

Later, when it’s dark, Bernie takes Serena by the hand and leads her outside, lighting their way with her wand. It isn’t raining now, and Serena can even see a few stars between the slowly drifting clouds. It’s cold, though, and she thinks of the roaring fire Bernie persuaded her away from and hopes they’re not going to be out here too long.

‘Darling, it’s February,’ Serena points out when they stop beside a picnic blanket.

‘I know,’ Bernie says. She waves her wand and dozens of tiny, sparkling lights appear among the vines, then gently tugs Serena forward another step.

‘Oh,’ Serena gasps in surprise. Because she can no longer feel the damp chill of the night air, instead is as warm as if she were inside. She reaches out one hand, feels the slightest resistance before her fingers are cold again, then looks at Bernie.

‘I wanted you to have the chance to kiss under the stars,’ she explains quietly, biting her lip and gazing at Serena from under her fringe.

Serena feels a warmth that has nothing to do with whatever spells Bernie has cast spreading through her body. ‘Who’d have thought there was a romantic hiding in there?’ she smiles.

‘You like it?’

‘More than. Thank you, darling.’

It might be warm inside their little bubble but they still sit close as they eat, as they sip wine pressed from the very vines surrounding them. And then, when they’ve finished, Bernie tidies away with a few waves of her wand and gently pushes Serena down until she’s lying on the blanket.

‘Look, the sky’s cleared.’

Bernie glances up and then gazes down at Serena, sees the stars reflected in her eyes and the joy on her face, feels her heart ache with how beautiful she is, how much she loves her. Pushes away the fear of what could happen and instead focuses on what _is_ , here and now.

And then Serena’s eyes fix on hers, and she reaches up to stroke Bernie’s cheek, to draw her down until their lips touch.

‘I was right,’ she murmurs.

‘Hm?’

‘Kissing under the stars is romantic.’

Bernie smiles, dips her head to kiss Serena again and then settles beside her, her head on Serena’s shoulder, their clasped hands resting on Serena’s stomach, both gazing up at the scudding clouds and twinkling, pinprick stars.

‘We’ll be alright, won’t we, back in London, back at the Ministry?’

Serena turns her head to look at her, rubs her thumb across Bernie’s knuckles and then raises their hands to her lips.

‘We will,’ Serena promises, pressing her mouth to the back of Bernie’s hand, nuzzling her nose against Bernie’s and brushing a soft kiss to her lips. ‘We will, darling,’ she repeats, settling back onto the blanket.

Bernie looks at her a moment longer and then settles too, Serena’s heart steady beneath her ear, Serena’s hand strong in her own.

*          *          *

Bernie steps out of the fireplace into the busy, noisy Atrium, yawns and rubs her eyes blearily.

‘Shall we, then?’ Serena asks, walking up beside her.

Bernie hums in agreement and they fall into stride as they head towards the lifts, close enough that their arms touch. They get in with a crowd, end up pressed together in one corner. Bernie brushes the back of her hand against Serena’s, catches her eye and smiles when Serena tangles their fingers.

Even as the lift gradually empties they stay close, keep hold of each other until they step out onto level two. Serena lets go then, and they walk down the corridor with hardly any space between them, past enchanted windows showing an overcast sky, nodding and smiling at the colleagues they pass. And then Bernie pushes open the door into Auror Headquarters and gestures for Serena to go in ahead of her.

‘You’re back!’ Morven cries, rushing over and throwing her arms around a surprised Bernie and then an even more surprised Serena.

She’s closely followed by Raf and Fletch who, beaming, shake both of their hands.

‘I hope you’ve kept my team in good nick,’ Bernie teases.

‘Running like a well oiled machine,’ Raf assures her.

‘And the same to you,’ Serena says to Fletch, eyebrow raised.

‘Paperwork might not be quite up to your high standards,’ he admits. ‘But it shouldn’t take you too long to get it all in order,’ he adds hurriedly.

‘Ms Wolfe, Ms Campbell.’

‘Mr Hanssen.’

‘Henrik.’

‘It’s good to have you both back.’

‘It’s good to be back,’ Serena says, glancing at Bernie and smiling.

‘A word in my office?’

‘I’ll get the coffee,’ Bernie says, touching her hand to the small of Serena’s back.

The gesture doesn’t go unnoticed by Raf and Fletch, the latter holding out his hand and the former scowling as he passes over a number of coins, or by Morven who grins. Or by Hanssen, whose lips tug up in a smile before he schools his features again and turns away to stride back to his office.

‘Don’t you lot have work to do?’ Serena says pointedly to Bernie’s team, all of whom are still looking at them and smiling.

‘Yes, Ms Campbell,’ they chorus, bowing their heads to their desks even as their eyes keep straying up from over their scrolls.

Serena ignores them, gazes at Bernie instead. ‘Alright?’

Bernie nods. ‘Strong and hot?’

‘As always,’ Serena smiles, fingers trailing along Bernie’s arm, stopping just short of the cuff of her robes and the bare skin of her wrist. ‘To work, Ms Wolfe?’

‘To work, Ms Campbell. We’ve a war to win, after all.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, all your fears were unfounded. I told you you could trust me. I mean, did you really think I'd kill either of them off???


End file.
